


Desired

by cinnamonboy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: 100 percent ai desu, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega Verse, actually its gon+pakunoda+machi+hisoka, as does illumi, because togashi says nothing about peoples past, cause why the fuck not, gon and hisoka conspire together, hisoka experiences thirst for the first time, illumi has a heart, killua is a fkin memelord, literally rife with headcanons, onesided kuromachi, slightly OOC, the dumbest hisoka headcanons out there, the zoldycks are fcking nuts, this fic is character experimentation, this is a genuine romance btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15513807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonboy/pseuds/cinnamonboy
Summary: Unbeknownst to many outsiders, the Zoldyck family did have omegas. Illumi’s own mother was one, and he evidently took after her.





	1. In My Dreams

There were two ways to perceive someone's presence, their aura.

One was obviously through the density and force of their nen, a signifier of who posed a genuine threat. Very few people could be identified through nen, as most people didn’t have such a strong aura in the first place, and those who did often hid their presence. The other was a more primitive identification.

Put simply, it was the person's smell. Their scent was unique to them, and it often signified their secondary gender. Illumi knew this because he had trained himself all his life to be imperceptible, in both senses.

Unbeknownst to many outsiders, the Zoldyck family did have omegas. Illumi’s own mother was one, and he evidently took after her. Being an omega was not as detrimental to assassination work as one might think- in fact, it was much harder to hide an aggressive alpha presence than a subtle omega scent.

However, the fact of the matter stood that as long as omegas had heats, they had a potential exploitable weakness. A week of uncontrollable sexual and maternal desires (Assassins with desires? _Ridiculous_ , Illumi thought) was a vulnerability, and the Zoldycks could not reveal such a thing. Thus, Illumi used all manners of products and creations to prevent his omega status from being detected. As a result, his secondary gender hardly impaired him from his family duties.

Of course, being an omega also barred Illumi from becoming the Zoldyck heir, but he was not bitter about that. Killua was young, but clearly presenting as an alpha, and Illumi had shifted a lot of his maternal instincts onto his younger brother. It was a win-win situation.

Lately, however, Illumi couldn’t shake the feeling that his secret wasn’t as closely guarded as he thought it was.

It began when he met Hisoka. He was fairly certain that was when most people’s problems began. The man was the first to notice Illumi so quickly and give an accurate measure of his power. This alone was a remarkable matter, simply because Illumi had trained himself to be relatively unpredictable. Overlooked, even. And yet, Hisoka’s attention had instantly pinned onto him.

At first, the assassin was certain that his gender-status had been discovered, specifically by a dangerous alpha with an overbearing presence. It was the worst case scenario. Luckily, it turned out that Hisoka was just incredibly skilled at reading people’s strength.

That was not the end of it, however. During the hunter exam, Illumi could only manage so much control over his needle-packed body, on top of maintaining constant nondetection. With the exam taking course over several weeks, Illumi had been in genuine danger of falling into a heat. In fact, when it had seemed he was nearing his heat cycle, he’d burrowed himself deep into the ground and slept it out for four days.

Despite Illumi’s efforts, he had begun to think that Hisoka sensed something after all.

This wasn’t just a passing paranoia, either. It was in the way the other man treated him: more flirtatious, more confrontational, _physically_ closer. The intimacy in which that clown fool had begun behaving with him was driving Illumi mad. The assassin knew his own body ⎼⎼punctured it, tested it, and controlled it hundreds of times ⎼⎼, and he could tell that some deep seated hormonal part of him was responding.

And he hated that part.

* * *

 

“Stop following me,” Illumi said to the figure slinking behind him.

He was walking at a brisk pace, weaving to and fro through Yorkshin city. The night was dark and murky, the only brightness being yellowed city lights. The crowd scuttering around mirrored their environment: shady, lonesome, endlessly shifting. Even at this hour, the city was as awake as he was, perhaps even more active than it was during the day.

Somewhere behind him there was a body rotting away, but unfortunately, rotting smells attracted vultures. The assassin had finished a contracted job, and he’d unintentionally attracted trouble.

Not that Hisoka would really give him a problem, but Illumi was in no mood to deal with a problematic alpha when he himself was edging towards his own heat.

“Illuuumi,” Hisoka drawled in that grating sing-song voice of his. He seemed to detect that Illumi didn’t appreciate his melodic speaking tone, as he’d been utilizing it more often than usual. “I thought we were _friends_.” The clown fool pouted. It looked stupid, not that Illumi could see it. Contrary to Killua’s deep-seated fears, his older brother didn’t have eyes in the back of his head.

“We’re associates,” The assassin corrected.

Though, he didn’t have any other “associates” in his contact list that communicated using personalized emojis. That seemed rather informal. However, Hisoka himself was not very formal, so it could hardly mean anything.

“Hmm,” Hisoka shimmied his way up to his companion’s walking space. He had heels on that made him tower over the other, and his clothes were obnoxiously bright. Illumi stared at him coldly, but that only caused the clown to smile. “You seem a bit icier than usual. Dare I ask why?” He leered mischievously, adding, “Can I help~?”

Illumi stared blankly into space, walking slightly faster. Hisoka recognized that blank expression as one of disgust.

“If you are expecting to goad me into fighting you, prepare to be disappointed.” With this, Illumi thought the conversation would be quite done.

By now, he should have known better.

“You really are bothered today,” Hisoka muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Something’s different.” He took on a brooding look, though he continued walking at Illumi’s pace. Hisoka edged up to take a peek at the assassin’s face, but Illumi cringed away and put some distance between them.

“I already told you to stop following me. Leave me alone.”

Hisoka pouted again, but the words didn’t deter him. In fact, they spurred him on further. All of this mystery was tickling his usually bored and apathetic personality, a fact that Illumi belatedly realized. The realization was followed with some amount of regret.

This situation wasn’t a good one. While Illumi heavily masked his scent, (omega status aside, it was necessary as an assassin) Hisoka hardly did anything to cover his own. The same way he let his oppressive nen reek all over the place, he did so with his distinct alpha scent.

Hisoka may have loved sweet things, but his own smell was deep and savory, with a tang not unlike blood. He had a potent scent, intoxicating like wine, and despite his feminine gait, both his nen and his smell swam thick with virility. Illumi reckoned that he would be able to taste Hisoka’s aura just by sticking his tongue out.

If the assassin were an alpha, he would probably find the clown’s presence highly offensive... but he was an omega.

He didn’t want to admit it, but the smell was distracting.

“You smell different,” Hisoka said, right next to his ear, hand lifting his long, black hair- _When the hell did he get so close?_

“Don’t _touch_ me,” Illumi snapped. In a motion, he’d grabbed Hisoka’s hand and crushed the bones between his fingers. His nen spiked dangerously, sending a chill through the other’s spine, but he could tell by the way Hisoka was grinning that he was enjoying it. Illumi mentally cursed at himself for letting the fool get this far.

“Wow,” Hisoka exhaled, golden-yellow eyes glinting in the city lights. “I should do that more often. You don’t like people touching your hair?”

Illumi didn’t grace the question with a response. He threw the now-broken hand away from him, storming off. All Hisoka had done was touch him, but it felt like he’d taken a hand and twisted up his insides. His stomach was still trying to settle down. Illumi chalked it up to that terribly intense smell.

He finally made it to the hotel he was staying at for the night, where he would most likely shut himself in until he could return home. Once he returned, Illumi would be able to manage his heat in the confines of his own bedroom. Thank goodness.

To his annoyance, he found that Hisoka was still following him. The guard glanced passingly at their forms, before assuming that the two strangely dressed and intimidating men were most likely acquaintances. Illumi reached the elevator, and turned around to pin his “associate” with a trademark stare.

“Hisoka.” The man in question stared back with a coy smile.

Illumi paused, just looking at him for a moment, before sternly pressing on.

“If you refuse to leave, I will…” _kill you? Isn’t that what he wants to hear?_ Illumi frowned softly. Threatening Hisoka would have the opposite effect of what he intended.

“Yes?” Hisoka pressed, with an indulgent expression.

The assassin narrowed his eyes. He switched his gears and decided to negotiate, instead. “If you leave, I’ll fight you in about a week or so.”

“Oh?” The clown pulled a face, mulling over this new proposal. He crossed his arms, leaning leisurely against the wall. He didn’t even cringe when his broken hand folded into the crook of his elbow.

Illumi pushed the button pad, hearing the whirs of an elevator sinking down. It was too slow.

“I’ll leave…” Hisoka began, a teasing lilt in his voice, “ _If_ you tell me what you’re hiding.”

“I’m hiding many things,” Illumi retorted, “I’m an assassin.” In fact, the amount of needles he was hiding would shock the average person. He didn’t even need that many weapons, it was just a force of habit.

“You know what I meant, Illumi,” the clown drawled playfully.

Illumi rolled his eyes. “47.”

“What?”

“Needles.” With that, he turned and slid in the elevator. The doors closed on Hisoka’s frowning, perturbed face.

* * *

 

A week and a half later, Hisoka had managed to find Illumi again. This time, the assassin was scouting out a new mission, stalking-but-not-really-stalking a target. He was supposed to be focused, but he felt it the moment Hisoka found him, and Illumi’s concentration suffered.

It couldn’t be said that his presence was welcome. Illumi had experienced a rather intense heat, unlike any other, and part of him suspected that it was because of the way Hisoka’s scent had lingered on his clothes. It was terrible what the heady scent had done to him. Illumi’s imagination had featured the candied clown constantly, often permeating into his dreams. Perhaps it was because he was the only alpha (aside from Illumi’s own family members) that the rather introverted assassin was close with. Not that they were _friends_ or anything.

“Hi, Illumi~” Hisoka smiled. He was in a different, but equally bright outfit.

Illumi calmly walked past him.

“Hey,” the clown pouted, lips sticking out, “What about the fight that you promised me?”

Suddenly, the assassin remembered a vivid dream he had the week before, with Hisoka hovering over him, stroking his hair, brushing those lips against the delicate, sensitive skin of his neck.

He shuddered.

“I lied,” Illumi said simply.

Instead of the annoyance he was expecting, Hisoka reacted with a thin, knowing smile. He sauntered up, and Illumi felt like he could physically sense Hisoka’s presence pressing against his back. “There it is again,” Hisoka announced.

He leaned in. “That smell.”

Illumi was frozen in place. _Can he tell?_

It wasn’t feasible for Hisoka to be able to discern his natural scent under all of the precautions he took, but then again, that clown fool always surprised him. Illumi negated his own scent with all sorts of special skin lotions; he used to take pills for his scent glands, but his body apparently recognized them as poisons as well. Illumi was immune to most omega-oriented supplements, and it wasn’t for lack of trying them.

Kikyo had insisted that he stop before he destroyed his own reproduction system, but it seemed that alternative methods just weren’t as effective. _“Damaging your body with overdoses could compromise your performance as an assassin, Illumi!”_ Yeah? Well, getting electrocuted repeatedly could do that, too. You didn’t see a Zoldyck complain about it.

But, back to the present. “I don’t know what smell you’re talking about,” Illumi said diplomatically. Even to his own ears, that sounded unconvincing. Worse yet, it encouraged Hisoka to search harder.

“No, it’s there,” the clown insisted, and his voice sounded much closer this time, “It’s a nice smell. Is it you?”

Illumi frowned. “It’s probably my shampoo.”

“I know what your shampoo smells like and it doesn’t turn me on.”

Well, that was straightforward.

The assassin turned around, giving a carefully blank expression. Hisoka was wearing an amused look, but Illumi could tell that he was experiencing some manner of confusion. Curiosity, perhaps? “Last I checked, I wasn’t a twelve year old child. I can’t imagine why I’d turn you on,” Illumi coolly retorted.

He mentally patted himself on the back for that one. Maybe Hisoka would be offended enough to go away.

“ _Illuuumi_ , that was mean,” the clown whined, smile turning to a frown. Illumi couldn’t find it within him to care. “You know I’m not like that,” the assassin raised a skeptical brow at this, “And besides, this is different. It’s not about my… fighting habits.”

Illumi sighed, and indulged him. “What is it, then?”

Hisoka sank into an unexpected silence.

After a few moments of walking, Illumi’s nondescript pacing with Hisoka’s clicking heels, the clown spoke up again. “I don’t know, really. I’ve never experienced it.”

Illumi said nothing. _Neither have I_ , his brain supplied.

“But,” Hisoka continued, “It’s changing me. Honestly,” and the clown muttered it like he was admitting a truth that even _he_ wasn’t ready for, “I don’t feel like fighting you anymore. It’s hard to explain.”

Illumi’s voice stuttered but he caught himself. “You don’t? That’s… strange.”

“I know!” Hisoka affirmed with a casual laugh. “Illumi, did you trick me somehow~?” He said it passingly, but the assassin could tell by the narrowing of his companion’s eyes that Hisoka was genuinely wondering if he’d manipulated him. Technically, Illumi supposed he did. Not that he could control it.

“What do you feel, then?” Illumi asked, with some small amount of hesitation.

Hisoka’s face fell, eyebrows drawing together and smile slipping away. He looked off from the assassin’s line of view.

The silence between them mounted. A block passed with no words exchanged, and then two. Illumi felt something like dread holding down his stomach. What could possibly be making the clown so bothered? “I… I feel,” Hisoka’s frown intensified and he held a hand to his lips. Illumi stared for a bit, before he realized where his eyes had landed and he tore them away. “I suppose however I imagined arousal would have felt like, minus all the battling.”

 _Great_ , the assassin thought to himself. _He doesn’t even know I’m an omega, but the alpha in him is responding_.

On top of that, this was the first time it’d happened in Hisoka’s life, apparently. _Why me?_

“Do you know why? You do seem to be hiding something, after all,” the clown peered over at him with a suspicious look.

“I have no idea,” Illumi quickly replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a shithead, I'm actually supposed to be working on an OPM piece, but I saw an omegaverse HisoIllu prompt on Tumblr (it wasn't even a prompt, somebody just wanted it to exist) and I could not resist. I have absolutely no idea how long this will be, and I suspect I will just be shitting it out chapter by chapter as the inspiration hits. Which it did. 
> 
> Sorry if Hisoka and Illumi are out of character, I imagine they'd change given their new biology... It is definitely fun to biologically punish psychopaths.


	2. Mint Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka comes face to face with the implications of being an alpha.

_Shower, shampoo and condition hair, brush teeth, file nails, apply make-up, pick out an outfit…_

As anyone could see, Hisoka’s morning routine was already dreadfully long. Recently, however, it had become even longer. There was a step in between picking out an outfit and styling his hair, and he tentatively called it “ _check head for Illumi’s needles.”_  

There really was no other explanation for Hisoka’s dilemma. He’d considered it his life-goal, his singular drive, to find opponents worth fighting and finishing off. Perhaps he would even be killed by one of them. Until recently, Illumi was near the top of that list.

Now?

Now he just wasn’t, and Hisoka didn’t know why. His only solution was to spend an extra fifteen minutes in the morning combing through his hair, running his fingers as meticulously as possible through each clump.

It wasn’t entirely out of the realm of Illumi’s capabilities to pin a needle in the jester’s brain and connect his own scent with _“don’t fight”_ signals. In fact, it would have been quite a clever solution, if one took to mind how dearly Hisoka loved close-quarters combat. It _seemed_ to be the case, if anything, considering how snappy Illumi had become whenever Hisoka smelled him. Maybe the assassin was worried he’d catch on?

_Then why wasn’t there a god damned needle?_

That assassin was making him go around in circles.

Every morning, he found nothing, and styled his hair like usual. He’d go about his day, perhaps killing someone out of irritation, and he’d run into an acquaintance here or there. Then, he might see Illumi himself, and he’d feel something excitable wash over him. His stomach would flip and his heart would race, and he’d drop everything just to pester the younger man for a few hours.

It was their new routine, their new act.

It was devoid of bloodlust, and fraught with something else entirely.

Hisoka’s fifteen minute search once again came up empty. He frowned at the mirror and styled his hair, grumpy but expectant. As much as the jester wanted the dots to connect, they didn’t. Illumi wouldn’t put a condition on a needle that would only lead to his annoyance, especially if the terms included something like “make Hisoka want to spend time with me.” The thought alone was ridiculous, and it made him chuckle.

His phone buzzed on the counter.

Hisoka peeked down, seeing a text message from Machi. “Oh,” he gasped in delighted surprise. She hardly ever texted him first. He unlocked his phone, and read:

 _Meeting tonight, at the base._ ** _Do not_** **_be late_** _._

He chuckled. How cute, she still hated his guts.

Hisoka typed a response, freshly filed nails clicking away at the screen.

 _I can’t wait to see you~!_ ⭐ _^3^_

He could feel her cringing from here. Hisoka styled his hair a little more energetically, though he briefly remembered that he had to apply that fake tattoo first. He frowned, taking off his shirt. A text dinged about a minute later:

_Ugh. Don’t fking do that. 10 PM._

Hisoka sent a heart in reply. _  
_

* * *

9:15 PM.

Out of sheer boredom, Hisoka had come in early, and only a few other members were at their dingy little Yorkshin base. One of them was Machi, and she was definitely ignoring him.

Hisoka was sitting amongst the rubble, staring out of the gaping hole (window?), leg swinging to-and-fro.

There was a distant sound of cards shuffling in the background, most likely Pakunoda tearing apart Uvogin and Nobunaga at poker, accompanied by Shizuku… _vacuuming?_ ...And Machi browsing her phone in disinterest. The dull noise faded in the background, and the minutes passed like time itself was dredging through mud.

The jester briefly wondered if this time was better spent alone.

Machi looked up, staring warily at Hisoka. He caught this movement and gave her a brief grin. She narrowed her eyes, and seemed to divert her attention back to her phone.

Hisoka sighed.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

He opened it up, seeing a text from Machi. _Oh, so that’s what we’re going to do?_ The jester thought to himself. He supposed it was less mind-numbing than waiting around. His eyes skimmed the brief message:  
  
_You smell different. It’s suspicious._

Hisoka chuckled a bit, and typed, _You’ve memorized my scent, hm~?_ ⭐ _¬‿¬_

He looked over and waited for the spider to receive his text. Her phone buzzed, and she opened the text message. After a moment of just staring at the screen, Machi leveled him with an exceedingly cold glare.

She typed quickly, eyes unmoving from his face. He gave her a cheeky grin until he felt his phone buzz in his hand.

 _It’s hard to forget what literal_ **_shit_ ** _smells like, clown freak._

Hisoka snorted, nearly collapsing in a fit of giggles. There was something very fun about pushing Machi’s buttons. After a moment, he got another text:

_And that’s not what I meant, but I guess a single-minded idiot like you wouldn’t understand. You smell like something changed you._

The jester blinked absently. He had no idea what that meant, but… Maybe it had something to do with his predicament.

⭐ _･◡･_ _?????_

From across the room, Machi loudly huffed.

 _Could you stop with the fkin emoticons,_ she sent him. Hisoka smirked.

⭐ _͡° ͜ʖ ͡°_

Machi put down her phone and just looked at him. Her face was one of unbridled hatred. _“You disgust me,”_ she mouthed, and Hisoka could see it clearly from where he was sitting. He grinned out of genuine amusement, and texted her again.

_Machiii~~~ What did you meeeean~~~~_

He could see when her phone buzzed in alert, and he watched Machi literally fight with herself on the matter of continuing to communicate with him. Something finally won her over, and she texted him again.

_I don’t even know why I brought it up. You just finally smelled like you’d been hanging around an omega, which I was hoping was the case, so you know, you’d leave me the fuck alone._

Hisoka stared.

 _What?_ He typed, forgetting all of his digital pretenses. Machi’s phone lit up, and she glanced at it warily.

_What do you mean, what? ...Am I wrong?? I knew it was suspicious…_

_An omega???????_

Machi took the time to dramatically sigh.

_Hisoka I’m not gonna fkin repeat myself you can literally scroll up and look with your own two eyes_

He scrolled up, and looked with his own two eyes. After another pregnant pause, he typed:

_What do I smell like??? Like, what’s different???_

Machi received the text, and dropped the phone yet again to serve him another look. This one seemed to be the “ _why am I even doing this?”_ face. Hisoka didn’t bother smiling or laughing, because he’d reached the point in the conversation where he was genuinely bothered. He hadn’t hung around any omega long enough for it to rub off on his natural scent, and it certainly wasn’t ⎻⎻

_God, you can’t even tell your own scent???_

After a bout of rather confirmational silence, Machi rolled her eyes and reluctantly continued.

_The omega scent is really subtle, it almost isn’t there. Whoever it is, I think they cover it. The only way I can tell is because your own scent changed. When I see you, you usually have an overbearing smell that I can’t stand, because I’m not attracted to you._

The situation was more like, _“I’ve sworn all of my loyalty to another alpha, and even though we haven’t mated, I’m not attracted to anyone else.”_

_But your smell right now is…_

Hisoka waited for a while. _What is it~?_ He typed, coaxing.

_...Tolerable isn’t a word that applies to you, but it’s close. You smell like you’re trying to mate with someone. Whoever it is, you’ve retained some of their scent._

Here, Machi paused again. She looked off into space, deep in thought. Hisoka watched and waited for her to continue.

_It’s…. It’s a bit clean smelling, I think. Like a mint tea fragrance. Very different from yours. But I can tell that for an omega, this person is dangerous, their aura is almost cold ... but considering your interests, I’m not surprised. I’m just happy you smell less like shit._

Hisoka slumped down the window sill, back sinking and phone dropping on his chest. He stared at the ceiling blankly. His phone buzzed one more time. He didn’t check it. There was only one scent he could think of that fit that description, and he was still wrapping his head around what Machi was implying. His brain processed the new information, and it sounded like:

_Illumi is an omega?_

_That Illumi?_

_Illumi Zoldyck, is an omega???_

The jester frowned.

_Does he like me?_

_Do I like him?_

_When’s the last time I ever liked anyone?_

_The fuck?_

He finally peeked at his phone. Machi had said: _Is this the first time your body has reacted to someone else’s smell?? You look like I just shot you._

“Fuck,” Hisoka said quietly, dropping his phone again.

From across the room, Machi laughed.

* * *

Chrollo had explained during the meeting that recently, a mafia boss was planning to move his entire antique collection to Yorkshin in preparation for the underground auction. It was a big move, though not uncommon considering the grandiosity of the auction. Usually, the spiders didn’t go after such spoils until the big events happened themselves, but…

The man had made his moving plans quite clear, and when he was questioned why by his fellow members, he had made his motive even clearer.

“What do I have to fear?” The mafioso said.

To which his close friends replied with something along the lines of, _“The Phantom Troupe, for one?”_

And he had scoffed and claimed that those bandits didn’t stand a chance. Against what, it was still uncertain.

Of course, given such a delectable opportunity, the spiders certainly couldn’t back down from the challenge. And so, here they were, lurking in midnight, waiting for the scheduled truck deliveries. Or rather, Hisoka was waiting outside with Machi. She didn’t seem so bothered for once, but she’d also been openly mocking him for the last hour. Chrollo was stationed in some area in the building, with Phinks and Shalnark aiding him. The other members were stationed in pairs around the building, or inside it.

Machi had her strings rung around delicately through the surrounding streets. She would be able to sense anyone’s presence, no matter how hidden. Once perceived, Hisoka would be able to bring them in with his Bungee Gum. It was like fishing, but with nen. Machi was talkative, but focused… Hisoka, on the other hand, was still wildly distracted from their conversation, and could hardly find it in himself to focus at all.

“Why haven’t I ever retained any other omega’s scent?” Hisoka asked himself, perplexed.

Machi looked over at him and snorted. “You do realize that for you to retain an omega’s scent, they have to release it first.”  

He stared at her rather blankly.

Machi elaborated, “As in, you release your scent and if they’re attracted, they’ll respond. Your scent is released all the time,” she said it with her nose crinkled, “So maybe you didn’t actually mean to attract anyone, but some poor soul likes it.”

“So... it’s like a pheromone battle.”

Machi gave him a perturbed look. “...Kind of? Actually, no. Not everything’s a battle, Hisoka.”

He frowned. All this information meant that not only was Illumi an omega, his scent was responding positively to Hisoka’s. _No wonder he’s been so pissy with me lately_ , the jester thought. _He probably didn’t want me to figure out his natural scent in the first place. What a sneak_. Hisoka mentally chuckled at the thought.

“So,” he clarified, “This omega likes me?”

“Their body likes you,” Machi responded.

 _How very naughty_ , Hisoka thought distractedly. He amused himself with the fantasy that Illumi was turned on by him.

“Oh, snap out of it, you’re like a starstruck teenager. I can’t believe this is really the first time you were attracted to an omega,” Machi harped in amusement. She folded her arms, eyebrows high on her forehead as she looked over at the disconcerted alpha.

“Aren’t you _28_ or something? Didn’t you ever hit puberty? Actually, don’t answer that, I don’t want to think about it…”

Hisoka frowned at her petulantly.

“Now that I think about it, it’s hard to imagine what kind of omega you’d be with. Is it a girl? A guy? Or some weird combo like you?”

“What?” Hisoka replied.

Machi chortled gleefully, holding her sides. “Oh man. This omega’s probably some fuckin’ freak. I don’t think a normal person ⎻⎻” She interrupted herself, head snapping east. Hisoka followed her gaze, feeling the traces of a dreadful nen. “Someone’s here. Hisoka, drag them in.”

“Finally,” he muttered.

He stretched out his nen, Bungee Gum reaching several meters before making contact, and _pulled_.

His target wheelbarrowed towards him, all black and dark green, needles flashing, malicious nen hitting like a stone cold brick, and Hisoka yelped- _“Illumi?!”_

The man in question widened his eyes. Illumi saw where his body was landing and stomped into the floor, breaking the pavement. “H...Hisoka? Why are you here?” He asked, like the jester wasn’t supposed to be there or something.

Machi turned towards him.

“Hisoka, you know this guy?”

He answered, “Yeah, we’re friends-”  
  
“ _Associates_ ,” Illumi corrected. Machi laughed suddenly.

Hisoka crossed his arms and continued. “We’re acquainted, I’m saying. Illumi, what are you doing here?” He couldn’t have picked a worse time to show up. Hisoka was still reeling from a two hour long crisis.

“I’m on a job,” Illumi said simply.

There weren’t many other reasons for him to be out and about, now that the jester thought about it. The assassin looked at him, and then at his female companion. “Hisoka,” he began. “Did you join the Phantom Troupe?”

The man in question glanced over at Machi, and Machi shrugged.

“Maybe,” Hisoka responded, eyes narrowing. “Why~?”

Illumi blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Then, I’ve been hired to kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to explain, Hisoka doesn't hide his scent for the same reason he doesn't hide his nen- to him, his scent just has the benefit of pissing off alphas and freaking out omegas, and he enjoys the fights it brings. Literally, up until this point, no one has responded positively to his smell. Or if they had, he hadn't taken note of it and they're probably dead if they were worth fighting. Is Hisoka stupid? Yes. 
> 
> This chapter was fun to write. I like to imagine that Hisoka has zero legitimate sex education, and whatever he knows is via word of mouth or something. And ooooomg figuring out how to add the teardrop emoji was hell. but I had to do it.


	3. What Money Can't Buy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka strikes a deal, but Chrollo is better at that.

Hisoka stared at Illumi in shock.

“Me?” He asked, feeling a little special. He had a hand over his heart, beaming a delighted smile at the assassin.  

Illumi coughed. “Don’t act so honored. My client said to kill any and all Troupe members, and you’re apparently part of that demographic.”

The jester pouted.

“All Troupe members, huh?” Machi piped up, drawing her thread to herself. “And who are you, exactly?”

The assassin stared at her blankly, and decided to answer, “Illumi Zoldyck, eldest son of the Zoldyck family.”

Machi whistled. “What an impressive reputation. Let’s see if you live up to it!” With that, she rapidly spun her thread, and tossed a parked car at him.

“Wait,” Hisoka said, but the car exploded and neither of them heard it.

“Hmph! Do you think,” Illumi dodged, spinning out of the explosion, “That my reflexes are that slow?” He tossed a handful of needles at Machi but she caught them with her thread, smirking. “Do you think _mine_ are, assassin?” she snarked, tossing a needle back at him. Illumi caught it and narrowed his eyes.

“Hey,” Hisoka tried again. This time, an explosion in the west cut him off. Machi whipped her head towards the source and yelled, “There’s more of you, isn’t there?!”

“Do not look away from your opponent.”

“Dammit,” she snarled, dodging his fist. It slammed into the sidewalk and the ground underneath her feet cracked and trembled. Illumi coolly raised his hand out of the large dent in the concrete and spoke, “This was quite the contract. I was not the only one in my family who was hired.”

“Fascinating,” Machi said, spinning her thread around her feet. “Is your whole family here? If so, it’s a shame that the Zoldyck bloodline is ending tonight.” She smirked at him. Illumi gave a bone-chilling glare, bloodthirsty nen bursting free from his body.

As exciting as this fight was, Hisoka was genuinely trying to reel in their attention. “Hold on,” he said, hands raising up.

Illumi sped right by him, wind throttling with the force as he lifted another punch against Machi. The girl dodged the first, second, and third consecutive punch, but then he dropped down and tripped her off her feet. “ _Motherfucker!_ ” she screamed, arm bleeding where he’d managed to impale a needle.

Illumi smirked, until he felt threads seizing his arm. Machi twisted her fingers and they tightened. Blood poured from his body.

“How do you like that, _bitch?_ ” She spat out, grinning. The assassin’s glare alone could kill.

Hisoka Bungee Gum’d them apart. “Guys,” he said.

“What?!” They snapped angrily. The jester was admittedly miffed for being ignored for this long. He turned to look at the assassin. “Illumi,” Hisoka began, “How much did they pay you for this contract?”

“Who fucking cares, Hisoka, just kill him!”

Illumi raised a brow, still firmly wrapped in Bungee Gum. “Why?”

The jester pouted.

“Illuuumi~,” he whined, “Come on. Tell me.”  

The assassin pinned him with a withering glare. He sighed, and relented, “Five billion, guaranteed. They’ve already made arrangements to send the money. Because we have yet to determine how many Troupe members have died, the final offer is still being negotiated.”

Machi scoffed. “Waste of money, if you ask me. We’re not the one’s dying toni⎻⎻”

“I’ll give you five billion to kill your contractors,” Hisoka had gone out on a limb and said it, but that was literally _all_ of his money. Boy, Zoldycks were expensive. Thank goodness he still had a free apartment from Heaven’s Arena.  
  
Illumi narrowed his eyes. “I said five billion _guaranteed_. We’re going to get paid more than that.”

“Hah, no you’re not,” Machi snorted.

The jester paused.

“I’ll give you five billion to kill your contractors and steal their five billion,” he amended.

Illumi frowned, considering the offer.

“...Ten billion to kill one man is better than five billion to potentially kill thirteen people,” he said after a moment of deliberation.

Hisoka smiled. Illumi was so predictable.

“Will you do it?” He asked, throwing a grin in for extra measure.

The assassin looked at him long and hard. Machi whipped her head between the both of them, still trying to wiggle out of the Bungee Gum. “Are you _seriously_ propositioning this guy right now,” she asked indignantly. “I hope you know, he just tried to kill us.”

“I’ll do it,” Illumi said.

“What?!”

Hisoka laughed out loud. “I knew you would~,” he declared happily, releasing his Bungee Gum.

* * *

 

First, the assassin had swiftly recalled his youngest brother, Kalluto, who was standing by his side with a questioning look.

“Kallu, you can take the papers off of the troupe members now. We don’t need them anymore.”

Machi stared, puzzled, at the ten year old girl? ...Boy? She then looked down at her body, searching for a piece of paper. A small sliver lifted off of her foot, drifting away, and her eyes widened. She hadn’t noticed it at all.

“I took them off, Illu-nii. But why? Aren’t we supposed to be killing them?”

“Hey!” From a distance, they looked over and saw Nobunaga, Feitan, and Shizuku walking over. “We heard a commotion, and nothing was happening on our sides. What’s goin’ on?” Nobunaga asked, warily assessing the two strangers. He glanced around, observing the obvious signs of destruction in the street. “Looks like it wasn’t just some explosion.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Feitan muttered. “The explosions were just a diversion.”

“Illu-nii,” Kalluto whispered anxiously, looking at the gathered Troupe members. “The plan,” he said, glancing meaningfully to his brother.

Illumi pat his head once. “That is not our concern anymore, little one. I am going to contact Milluki and confirm the situation change with him.” He pulled out his phone. The thieves scrutinized him closely, until Machi coughed and interrupted the silence.

“Sooo, Hisoka just bought the Zoldycks,” she announced at the newcomers. Kalluto’s eyes widened. “What?” Nobunaga uttered, startled. She laughed. “I know, right? Apparently he’s friends⎻⎻”

“Associates,” Illumi interjected.

“⎻⎻ _Associated_ with them,” she finished.

Feitan narrowed his eyes. “You can’t just buy the Zoldycks out of an established contract.” He looked over at the nonchalant jester. “How much money did you drop on this?”

“Oh... five billion,” Hisoka admitted. “They’re getting ten billion in total, though.”

Nobunaga whistled, and Shizuku gave her nod of approval. Kalluto stared at Hisoka, entirely unsettled. “Welp. That’s a fuck-ton of money,” Feitan stated in affirmation. “I guess it’s over. Their set-up failed, we bought the fucking Zoldycks.” He took out his phone to text Phinks.

“Millu?” Illumi said, also on the phone.

The younger Zoldyck and the Troupe members turned to him, all conversation falling silent.

 _“Illu-nii?”_ They heard, static-y over the speaker. _“What’s the status? Are we set to blow up the bomb?”_

“What bomb,” Nobunaga stage-whispered. “Isn’t that what they’ve been using all night?”

“Shut up,” Feitan retorted.

“No, Millu,” Illumi responded quickly. “Deactivate the bomb. A new situation has arisen.”

There was a pause over the speaker, with the sound of someone reluctantly typing on a computer. _“What? But, the Troupe is already on location, aren’t they? My drones are ready.”_ Milluki sounded a bit put-out, as though he’d been looking forward to blowing everything up. Which he probably had been.

Illumi firmly restated, “No, Millu. We don’t need your drones anymore, either. Take back the equipment. I can handle this alone.”

 _“But, Illu-nii…”_ Milluki’s voice hesitated. _“You… even_ **_you_ ** _can’t handle the Troupe alone... can you?”_

“I am not handling the Troupe. I have nulled the contract.” They heard a gasp over the phone, and Kalluto stared openly at his older brother, shocked over the confirmation. “Illu-nii, you really…”

 _“But, but,”_ Milluki protested, voice now shaking like a leaf. _“Mama and papa w-will be angry! Papa won’t approve of voidin⎻⎻”_

“Father has vested the power of making contractual decisions to me. I have taken up this contract, and I am the eldest. You will adhere to my orders or face the appropriate punishment.”

“Damn,” Machi whispered.

_“I-Illu-nii,”_

“Milluki,” the assassin snapped coldly. He said nothing else, but his younger brother fell silent.

 _“… Okay.”_ Milluki answered quietly. He seemed to have come to terms with the matter. _“What are we… what are we going to do about the money?”_

“I am bringing home ten billion. It will be sufficient.”

Silence, and then, _“...I sure hope so.”_

With that, Illumi hung up the phone. He turned back to look at the gathered Troupe members and Kalluto. His younger brother was still staring in shock. “Illu-nii,” he said. “What-, what do I do, now?”

“You may go home. Like I said, I can handle this situation alone.” Kalluto looked like he was afraid to go home. He voiced his fears, albeit softly, “But, what will I tell mother?”

Illumi considered the question.

“Tell her we made ten billion. Explain no further. I will take care of it.” With that, he dismissed his younger brother, who hesitantly left the area. It seemed Feitan had sent everyone an update, as the rest of the group had now gathered to their location.

The spiders looked at the assassin quietly. Phinks, Shalnark, and even Chrollo had arrived.

“Hello,” the leader said diplomatically. “Is there a problem here?” He smiled.

Illumi assessed the man quietly.

A tense moment passed between them, thirteen staring down one. Finally, he said, “No. There isn’t.” Chrollo nodded at this, pleased. “Great. My name is Chrollo Lucilfer, and if you haven’t guessed, I am the leader of this group.” He stepped up to Illumi, holding out a hand. “Who exactly are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Illumi stared at the proffered hand. He shook it briefly. “I am Illumi Zoldyck, eldest son of the Zoldyck family.” In the corner of his eye, he saw Hisoka mouthing the words with him while quietly snickering. The assassin gave a dull glare.

“Well, then. I believe I fought your father once. Interesting battle.” Illumi had not known that. “So, what happened? I thought you were contracted to…”

“I was in fact contracted to kill any and every member of the Phantom Troupe.”

“And now…”

“I am no longer contracted to kill any and every member of the Phantom Troupe.”

Chrollo smiled, more genuine this time. “That’s fantastic. I’m glad you had a change of heart, though I’m not sure why.” He shrugged. “I suppose the details aren’t important. What will you do now?” It was the question lingering on all of their minds.  

“I will be pursuing my new contract…” Illumi hesitated. Chrollo waited patiently, as it seemed he had more to say. “I suppose you should know that we were preparing to wipe you out before the Underground Auction. The Ten Dons are expecting your death, and if you aren’t killed tonight, you will be highly pursued until the auction begins.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Yes.” Illumi gathered himself, saying, “That is the full extension of my warning. Good luck.” He turned around, ready to leave.

“Wait,” Chrollo interjected.

The assassin looked back, waiting. “I believe it was Hisoka who redirected your services?” The leader asked, head tilted. He received a nod in confirmation.

“Interesting. I would like to hire you as well.”

The Troupe gathered around, listening more closely. Illumi assented for him to continue. “If the Dons are expecting our death, I would like you to convince them of it. And, if that’s the case, is there any way you could hold off on your contractor’s death? That contract still holds, of course, but⎻⎻”

Illumi interrupted, “I can control my contractor and have him instantly killed when I am done. In that time period, he will be sentient enough to convince the underworld that the Phantom Troupe has, in fact, perished.”

“ _Excellent_ ,” Chrollo said, clasping his hands together. “In that case, we can steal his antique collection and still play dead.” Quite an opportunist.

“Yes. What will be the agreed payment?”

Chrollo thought about it, pursing his lips. “Aren’t you collecting the payment from your original contractor, as well? If he’s under your control, I’m sure you can persuade him to give you as much as he can. Consider that my payment. If that’s not enough, we will personally send you a few gifts from his collection.”

Illumi approved. He was now going to be much, much richer.

“I accept your offer, Lucilfer,” he took out his phone, “I am going to order my younger brother to blow up this building, as part of the cover. I advise you to take your leave.”

“Of course. Thank you very much. It was a pleasure meeting you, Illumi.”

With that, they exchanged contacts, and Chrollo gathered his Troupe to their new destination, once Illumi enlightened him on where the actual collection was being transported.

“Millu?” The assassin said, on the phone. “Change of plans… yes, again…”

* * *

 

“Hisoka,” Chrollo said, quietly. Shizuku was packing the last of the fine art paintings into her vacuum. It was four in the morning, and with the Phantom Troupe declared dead, all the guards had joyously left. This warehouse was going to be sealed until the auction.

“Yes~?” The jester turned, looking over at his leader.

He dove straight into the matter. “Who are you to Illumi Zoldyck?”

Hisoka was admittedly not expecting such a question. Machi snorted and quipped, “An associate.”

Chrollo hummed in disagreement. “No, he’s more than that.”

“Oh?” The jester stroked his chin, eyes glinting curiously. “What makes you say that, hmm?”

Chrollo stared at him, dark eyes assessing. He clasped his hands together, holding them in that pose he did whenever he was thinking hard about something. “From what I remember, the Zoldycks would never, on any circumstance, _ever_ , back out of an agreed upon contract.”

Feitan muttered, “Not even for ten billion jenny?”

Chrollo shook his head.

“They’re not like us,” he stated softly. “They’re not in it for the money; the Zoldycks have plenty of that. For them, assassination is a matter of pride... It can’t be bought. A Zoldyck assassin would rather go through hellfire than leave a job undone.”

“Then, why…” Machi uttered, under her breath.

“That’s why I’m asking. Hisoka, who _are_ you to Illumi Zoldyck?”

The man in question stared at him blankly. For a moment, he said nothing, not knowing how to answer. “Just a friend, I suppose.” He shrugged, smiling. Machi sat up like lightning struck her.

“Wait a minute,” she said, urgently. Everyone turned to her.

“Is _he_ the omega?!”  

Chrollo glanced at her, eyes wide. “Huh?”

Hisoka didn’t answer, just looked at Machi with his mouth open. The woman grinned wickedly.

“He _is!_ ”

She jumped up, excited for having figured it out. “It’s him, isn’t it! Don’t say it, I already know. How romantic, your omega spared your life at the cost of his own family. No fuckin’ way. I cannot believe.” Machi laughed at the sheer strangeness of it all. “I fucking _knew_ your omega was going to be some kind of freak. I _called_ it! Wow.”

She leaned back against the wall, cackling.

The Troupe redirected their stares at Hisoka, collectively waiting for his confirmation. “What are you looking at me for,” he snapped at them, after returning to his senses. That was basically an answer in itself.

“Well,” Chrollo said, blinking. “I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I... wasn’t expecting that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally wrote all of this in one night, right after submitting chapter 2. I was extremely inspired. Thank you guys for your nice comments, I think it partially fueled my plot development. Literally started this as a joke, now I'm fully invested. 
> 
> aaalso, considering the fact that I fueled one of the Internet's desires for fanwork to exist, I think it's fair for me to politely suggest something as well. To all artists into hisoillu, why haven't yall drawn Illumi in a traditional japanese wedding ceremony dress???? and hisoka in like, gaudy victorian wedding clothes with heels??? someone get on this, im begging you. or just link me to it if it exists. i hope it's as beautiful as i imagine. goodnight everyone.


	4. An Open Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may not like it, but this is peak parenting.

Silva, Kikyo, and Zeno Zoldyck sat at the grand dining room table, staring down Illumi, who was sitting across from the three.

Illumi himself wasn’t quite looking at anything, just letting his eyes blur out of focus when he got bored.

To his left was Kalluto, whose head was downcast to the floor. The boy was utterly silent, gripping anxiously at his long, ornate sleeves. Milluki had already run away, and of the three, he had the most right to. He hadn’t physically been in Yorkshin to finish the contract against the Phantom Troupe.

“Illumi,” Silva stated with severity.

The eldest son blinked, looking over at him after a moment of adjusting his attentions. Once he had his son’s focus, Silva began, “I hope you realize that in a few months, the world will know that not only have you abandoned a contract, but that you lied about it for the sake of fulfilling another one.”

Silence passed between them, thicker than a forest. “I’ve realized,” Illumi blandly responded. He explained no further. Zeno looked at his quiet, remorseless form, and laughed. In amusement, he remarked, “So we have more than one rebel of this household, now do we?”

The passing statement made Silva furrow his brows, frowning deeper. “I see,” the father said, looking at his son with a calculated stare. “Illumi. As it stands, Killua has already abandoned our principles. I believe he will return, but I do not know when or how.” It was a terrible matter to bring up, and it personally stung for Illumi to hear. He’d spent many nights wondering if he should have been more severe in his teachings, because _clearly_ Killua had learned nothing.

“In the meantime, the Zoldyck family must remain strong for its heir.” It was the definitive demand of an alpha, and Illumi felt naturally compelled to listen to his family figurehead. Silva succinctly continued, “I can see we have run into a disagreement, and I would like to address it before you are lost to me as well.”

The eldest son nearly scoffed. He would never be lost to the Zoldycks, he was an omega. This was his home, his nest. The only person as anxious as him about Killua leaving was their mother, who, coincidentally, _was also an omega_.

Kikyo recognized this as well. “Dearest, it isn’t in Illumi’s nature to run astray. There must be something else to all of this, right, Illu?” She gently prodded at him, head tilted, but he didn’t respond.

Silva gave the idea some consideration. He asked his wife, “What are your thoughts on this matter, Kikyo?”

Kikyo folded her hands together, peering at her husband through the visor. “Dear, this is a issue of Zoldyck principle,” she said carefully, “And I simply did not spend all my life as a Zoldyck… I believe you will disagree with me.”

Silva nodded. “I’m aware, but I still want to know.”

Kikyo looked over at her son, gathering herself together.

“I know how grave this situation is,” she began, “Especially for us Zoldycks, who treat the matter of assassination very seriously. The act of professional assassination is only made meaningful through contracts… and to show that contracts can be so easily voided, why, it’s a _terrible_ stain on our reputation.” Silva and Zeno nodded in agreement.

“But?” He asked, knowing that she was not finished.

Kikyo looked at her husband. She then turned to Illumi, hands folded closer to her chest.

After a moment, she spoke in a wavering voice like she was biting back her pride. “I just… I can’t believe it,” the mother said, hand placed where her heart would be. “My dear Illu backstabbed the mafia, honey. The entire organization. Who knew he could be such a _snake!_ ” The woman smiled warmly at her apathetic son.

“He certainly takes after his mother,” Silva stated, his own eyes reflecting a bit of contentment. Kikyo sniffled a little, expression blossoming at his words. She continued.

“We’ve been getting endless donations and gifts because of the contract against the Troupe. I believe calculations are past twenty billion.” Many people, civilian and criminal, were happy to hear that the Phantom Troupe was gone. All Ten Mafia Dons had something to chip in for them. It was having a huge impact in the underworld: The Zoldycks, already seen as a mysterious and powerful family, were now being praised as complete legends.  

“Twenty billion, and all he had to do was take over one man. Illumi killed a single contractor and lied to the world, and he _got away with it._ ” She said it as though there was literally _nothing_ on this planet that could make her prouder.

“My son could tear down nations by himself,” Kikyo finished emphatically, now weeping. Kalluto looked on the scene in shock.

Silva smiled when she was done.

“In truth, I agree,” he admitted. “Illumi, you briefly stepped out of your own shell-,” _Now what does that mean,_ the eldest son thought, “-And it has led to quite incredible results.” Kikyo stared at her son fondly (or her visor did, anyway), soft smile gracing her lips.

“You’re not angry, then?” Illumi asked.

Silva looked up, about to answer, but Zeno interrupted him.

“This matter is not that simple. We can’t just let it slip between us that easily.” The group silenced, waiting for Zeno’s valuable input. “The fact stands that this brief success, no matter how great, will only be overshadowed when the underworld inevitably realizes what we’ve done, and turns their back on us… Most importantly, we still don’t know why.”

Zeno peered at his grandson, wrinkles casting shadows in his eyes. “Illumi, why did you null the contract and collaborate with the Phantom Troupe?”

The three elders looked at him, waiting for an answer.

Illumi could only look back, utterly silent, because even he wasn’t sure why he did it. It was just the thought of Hisoka’s lifeless, mangled body on the pavement that changed his mind. That had been all it took, and Illumi had eaten up the clown fool’s words. It was his coincidental fortune that the deal had made them twenty billion jenny richer, but that was a stroke of sheer luck and boldness that he didn’t usually have.

How could Illumi possibly explain such a _stupid_ course of action?

As it turns out, he didn’t have to.

Kalluto coughed hesitantly, staring nervously at his older brother. The elders turned their attentions to him. He continued with a small voice, “Mother, Father…”

Kalluto received an encouraging nod from his parents.

“I think Illumi’s boyfriend is in the Phantom Troupe.”

It was as though the world had stopped turning.

Kikyo gasped loudly as the words left his mouth. Even Zeno seemed surprised.

Illumi turned, and stared at his youngest brother with deep, black eyes that sucked the life out of him like the abyss. “Kalluto,” the eldest said, “What did you just say?”

“I-, I-,” Kalluto stuttered, lip trembling. He gripped his sleeves tighter.

“Yes, Kallu?” Illumi urged him. “Can you repeat that?” The youngest shook his head. Illumi smiled, and it looked like death. “Of course you can’t. Who taught you to lie to your own family, Kalluto?”

“No,” Kalluto protested vehemently. “I’m not-, I _just-_ , I’m sorry, Illu-nii. I just thought...”

“Please, enlighten us as to what you were thinking,” Silva said suddenly.

Illumi tch-ed, eyes narrowed. He looked away from his youngest brother, an act that gave the latter courage. “I, I…” Kalluto glanced away guiltily. “Well, isn’t he? He has the same scent that your clothes carry sometimes,” The poor boy squeaked. “I thought he was⎻⎻,”

“ _Oh! My!!_ **_Goodness!!!_** ” Kikyo exclaimed, snapping up in her seat. “I knew it!”

Illumi’s eyes widened. “Mother, what?”

She turned to Silva, energetically talking, “This is what I was saying the other day, honey! I knew there was something different about Illu’s smell, like he’d been meeting an _alpha_ ,” she said, acting like a suburban housewife who’d stumbled across a riveting scandal. “Oh dear, Illu, you don’t have to hide it, you’re grown. Introduce us sometime!”

_Oh, hell no_. “Mother, no.” He shook his head, “Absolutely not. And he’s an associate. He literally means nothing to me. Less than nothing.”

“Illu-nii dropped the contract for him,” Kalluto suddenly mentioned, like some kind of fucking _snitch_.

Illumi looked right at his youngest brother, eyes piercing, and Kalluto shrank away. “I wouldn’t say all of this if I wasn’t sure!” The boy defended himself. “I had surveillance papers on the Troupe members, and I overheard a conversation, the alpha kept talking about this omega, and how their scents were mixing,” Kalluto blushed heavily, rambling. “And when I saw the alpha, well, he had the same scent Illu-nii had been carrying. So I thought he was dating this guy.”

Illumi couldn’t hide his disturbed look. “Hisoka knows I’m an omega?”

“Oh, so his name is Hisoka?” Kikyo enquired in intrigue. “Fuck,” Illumi muttered.

“Tell us about him,” Silva said.

“Father, no, he’s not⎻⎻”

“Tell us about him,” Silva demanded.

Illumi shut his eyes. It was like he was trying to fight the part of him that wanted to comply. He sat there, eyes shut, and the three elders waited for him to continue. Minutes passed. Finally, he sighed and relented.

“He’s…” How did one explain Hisoka?

“He’s very interested in killing people,” Illumi began.

“Oh my! That’s excellent. He’ll fit right in.” Kikyo clapped her hands happily. Silva nodded his approval.

Illumi coughed and continued. “He enjoys battling. Lives for it, in fact. He’s very strong, Hisoka would pass the Testing Gates easily. He’s a Transmuter, like father. He loves talking about his nen, he calls it Bungee Gum. His fighting style is very flashy, but he is surprisingly clever underneath the cheap tricks. Actually, he’s just flashy in general. He’s always wearing different outfits, and they’re all obnoxious. He likes playing cards, and he loves texting me using silly emoticons. Hisoka has a playful personality, and he isn’t afraid of anyone. Sometimes I think he seeks death.”

Finally, Illumi stopped, because this was getting embarrassing. He still had more to say on the matter, but he hadn’t realized there was so much to say in the first place.

“This Hisoka sounds like quite a character,” Kikyo stated. She sounded pleased with her son’s choice. “I would love to have him over for dinner!”

Silva was still deep in thought, reflecting over all that Illumi had said.

He spoke softly. “I don’t know about that. I’m glad Illumi didn’t fall for a commoner, but Hisoka sounds like he isn’t interested in acting as an assassin.” This was not something that should matter to his father, Illumi thought. “Son, do you think he could learn to become one?”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

“Hisoka doesn’t need to. You could give him contracts, sure, but he’d just chase people down openly. That clown loves it when people put up a fight, and he’ll scour the ends of the earth to kill someone. No one can hide from him.”

Even Illumi couldn’t. He hardly ever told Hisoka where he was, but it didn’t matter.

The people at the table took a moment to absorb all of this information. Zeno finally spoke on the matter. “Fascinating. You two seem to be cut from the same cloth, but he takes quite an opposite approach. I would like to meet this man as well. So, when is the wedding?”

“ _What?_ ”

“Father, that’s a bit of a leap,” Silva said. Illumi agreed wholeheartedly. “Hisoka needs to accept the assassin’s way of life first.” Illumi no longer agreed.

Zeno laughed. “You’re telling me? I _am_ glad my grandson picked a powerful alpha,” _I didn’t_ , the eldest son thought, “But he also sounds highly unprincipled. Such a person may not fit well with the Zoldycks, but if they were to get married, it would at least explain why Illumi negated the contract against the Phantom Troupe.”

Silva sat back in his chair. “You’re right,” he said, stroking his chin. “I see where you’re going with this.”

_Oh no_ , Illumi thought with dread. They were not only suggesting that he marry Hisoka, but that he marry Hisoka for the sake of the business. _Christ_.

“Indeed, for anyone to contract an omega to kill their alpha would be quite foolish,” Kikyo affirmed, like she had experience in the matter or something. Who knows, maybe she did. “And who am I to stop such a formidable relationship? If this is what Illumi wants, then so b⎻⎻”

“I don’t want this,” Illumi quickly stated.

The room descended into silence.

“What?” Kikyo asked in disbelief. Illumi just looked at her and repeated himself. “I don’t.”

He could tell she was shocked. When had he said that he wanted to be with Hisoka? “Well, then, what do you want? Don’t you like him?” She crossed her arms, sounding hurt.

“I have no intention of being in a relationship with him, let alone marrying him,” Illumi explained bluntly. The thought alone was unbelievable. Him, marrying Hisoka Morow, of all people? _What the fuck?_ It just wasn’t happening.  
  
Even with the visor, and wrapped in all of the bandages, one could tell that Kikyo looked quite disappointed. “But Illu, for your body to respond so positively to him, there must be something happening in here,” she tapped her heart. “You’ve never been attracted to anyone else before.” If he had, she would have known by now.  
  
“Have you thought about the possibility of being with someone, Illumi?” Silva asked contemplatively. “I know as the eldest son, we’ve pressured you to maintain our business and home life. Perhaps that’s the reason you’ve become so enamored with such a free-spirit in the first place.”

That was the last straw.

Illumi got up from his chair. “Illu,” his mother called, to no avail. He left the dining room wordlessly.

* * *

 

Illumi was curled in his bed, hair tousled all over the pillows, blankets scattered everywhere, shoes still on his feet. He was staring blankly at his phone, just looking at the time. It was 1 AM, 3 hours after he’d had that awful conversation with his parents and grandfather.

He knew this matter was stressful for his parents. They never mentioned it, but Silva had been 22, and Kikyo had been _18_ , when they had him. As it stood, Illumi was 24 and had never even considered mating. For an omega to have gone through 12 years of heats without searching for a mate was unheard of.

But, he just hadn’t cared.

It was another pain to deal with, and Illumi had other things to worry about. Like Killua. Why were they so stressed out about potential grandchildren when they still had their own children to fret over?

So _what_ if Hisoka smelled nice? So _what_ if he had a dream about that idiot here or there? It wasn’t like the clown fool had meant to attract him; he literally let his smell reek all over the place, for christ’s sake.

He sighed, rolling into a more comfortable position. For the first time, Illumi felt like leaving. It wasn’t just leaving the mansion and taking a walk in the forest, either. He wanted to take an indefinite vacation. Preferably somewhere in which he could focus on other, more important matters, rather than the issue of whether or not he would find a mate and settle down.

_But where would I go?_ Illumi thought. He reckoned this was how Killua felt when he first left, and he scoffed.

_This isn’t about going soul-seeking with some ‘friends’._

Illumi opened his contacts list. As many could guess, it wasn’t a very personal list. It’d been filled to the brim with associates that he’d made over the years of being an assassin. There was only one person he felt like texting, and he didn’t even want to admit that he felt like texting this person, but… Illumi sighed, and decided that now was a good time to address unsettled issues.  

_Hisoka?_

_Are you awake?_

1:17 AM, the clock told him. A hit or miss, around this time. Most people were already deep in sleep, if they’d decided not to stay up. Illumi waited a little longer, feeling his heart pick up speed. _Am I anxious?_ He asked himself. _Is this decision making me anxious?_

His phone buzzed, interrupting his train of thought.

_Illumi~ What are you doing up so late, hmm~?_ ⭐ _☌ω☌_

The assassin snorted, lips curving upward. Somehow, Hisoka managed to find emoticons that were uncannily accurate at portraying his actual face. He typed a response, thumbs tapping the screen, before erasing it. To his frustration, Illumi did this several times before he finally settled on what he was going to say.

_I wanted to talk to you about something. Are you at your apartment in Heaven’s Arena?_

Somehow, just telling Hisoka that he wanted to talk seemed a bit risky.

_Ooooh… you want to talk, hmmmm~~_ ⭐ _‾̀ω‾́_

Yes, this was why it seemed risky.

_You’re always invited, Illumi_ ⭐ _˘ 3 ˘_ _～ ❤_

Illumi sighed, and belatedly wondered what he’d gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illumi: The thought alone was unbelievable. Him, marrying Hisoka Morow, of all people? What the fuck? It just wasn’t happening.  
> Togashi: lMaOoOo bItCh WaTcH mE *downs a bottle of Henny*
> 
> lol hope you enjoy this seven page update of literally one scene. This hardly constitutes as writing, but I just can't summarize how ridiculous the Zoldycks are. I feel like Illumi goes through a lot of unseen emotional turmoil, because for the first 7 years of his life, he was an only child and these were his parents. Btw, the ages of his parents at his birth are indeed canonical. That's young as hell to me, but it makes sense in an omegaverse to some extent.


	5. Refuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illumi runs away, not that he would call it that.

“Gotoh,” Illumi said, packing a small bag for himself. He didn’t need much, just the lotions for his skin scent and clothes. And weapons, of course, but that was a given. “I’m leaving for a week to take care of contract-related matters. If my parents ask, please let them know. I would have told them myself, but I have no time to spare.”

The butler looked on the scene in front of him.

Illumi’s bedroom was unexpectedly disorganized. Outfits were spewing out of the closet, and the bed looked like its owner had a long, sleepless night. For the last 5 minutes, Illumi had been rummaging around his drawers, seeing what he should bring with him. It didn’t look like he was simply packing for a week’s trip. However, Gotoh said nothing other than, “Of course, young master. I will inform them during breakfast.”

It was 5:30 AM. For the Zoldycks, the first meal of the day tended to happen at around 8:30 to 9. That meant Illumi would have roughly three hours before his family knew, and he’d be long gone by the time they tried contacting him.

Perfect.

With a modest outfit and an unassuming bookbag, Illumi Zoldyck left his family estate.

* * *

 

8:35 AM.

“He did _what_?!” Kikyo snapped at her butler.

“Young master Illumi left this morning to take care of cont⎻⎻”

“I heard what you said. I just, can’t believe!”

“Is there something wrong, my lady?”

“Yes! Did he tell you where he was going?”

He reflected on all that had happened at 5:30 AM. “... No, he didn’t. I wasn’t aware there were serious implications behind Illumi leaving.” The eldest son wasn’t like Killua, after all.

“Oh, I suppose you wouldn’t have known. This won’t do, not at all. I need to speak with Millu, wake him up now.”

“Young master Milluki is still sleeping, and from the sound of it, he had been watching cartoons last night until 4 AM.”

“Oh, that dolt. Doesn’t he have anything better to do with his time? I don’t care if he’s tired. He needs to wake up _right now_.”

“Yes, my lady.”

* * *

 

Illumi arrived at around noon. He texted Hisoka briefly, letting him know that he was on the way to Heaven’s Arena.

The reception desk clerk gave him a glance-over, before sliding into generic customer service routines. “Hello, welcome to Heaven’s Arena. What can I do for you today?” she asked.

“I’m here to visit one of the fighters,” Illumi stated.

“Of course. Please let me know your name, and which fighter, and I’ll ring them up for you.”

“My name is Illumi. I’ve come to see Hisoka Morow.”

The clerk took another look at him, with more scrutiny this time. For a moment, she traded her trained voice for one of incredulity. “ _The_ Hisoka Morow? That’s crazy, are you a friend of his?”

Illumi blinked.

“I’m an a-...”

He paused midway, overwhelmingly tired.

“Yes, I am. Please let him know I’m waiting for him.”

“ _Wow_ , Illuuumi~! I can’t believe it!” Hisoka exclaimed, walking towards him. _Motherfucker_ , Illumi thought. “You finally called me your friend.” The clown fool had a grin plastered on as he said it. The clerk looked back and forth between them. “Oooh, that’s a big bag. Are you staying at my place for the whole week?”

His question went ignored. “When did you get here?” Illumi asked, with some amount of contempt.

“Well, I was trying to sneak up on you. I even hid my scent.” The assassin belatedly realized that Hisoka really had. He was getting rusty if he couldn’t sense the clown’s approaches. “But then you took me by surprise!” Hisoka turned to the clerk, who had been quietly observing their interactions. “Thank you for distracting him,” he said with a smirk, “But I’ll be taking my friend up myself.”

She nodded blankly in response, watching them pace up to the elevators. Hisoka flicked at Illumi's hair playfully, and the other man swatted his hand away. 

“Hey,” the clerk spoke, glancing at the other employee next to her. “I think I just met Hisoka Morow’s boyfriend.”

“No way, are you sure? I mean, Hisoka’s definitely gay, but he’s so dangerous!”

“Yeah, I know. It’s hard to imagine someone gutsy enough to date him. But look, they’re so close, and I’m pretty sure he’s staying over at Hisoka’s apartment.”

“Staying over? Oh... maybe you’re right then. They do seem kind of close, now that you mention it. That’s cute. So fighters _do_ have a soft side.” They shared a look, chuckling. There was absolutely no way that Hisoka Morow had a soft side.

* * *

 

“So,” Hisoka began, when they reached his room. Illumi settled down his bag, glancing around at what would be his living space for the next week. “Is this about the five billion I promised you? Because I told you it takes⎻⎻”

“I know how long it takes. This isn’t the first time I’ve been paid,” Illumi said snidely.

“Wow, was that _attitude_? Somebody’s pissy today,” the clown remarked, laughing.

The room was decently sized, with all the amenities of a hotel room and more. The kitchen wasn’t really well stocked, but Illumi imagined that Hisoka hardly cooked in the first place. _What did that clown fool even eat?_ However, it was surprisingly clean, the only real mess being the scattered collection of shoes in the corner.

The bed was big enough to fit two people, but frankly, the assassin would rather sleep on the floor.

After his minute observations, Illumi settled down into a chair, facing his companion. The clown took this as a sign that their real conversation was starting.

“Hisoka. You know that I am an omega, correct?” The assassin stated it as deadpan as he could, without betraying how he really felt on the matter. It seemed to take the clown by surprise. He reluctantly admitted, “Maybe.”

“Alright. Does anyone else know of this?”

Hisoka thought of the shocked faces of the entire Phantom Troupe.

“...No,” he said, carefully.

Illumi narrowed his eyes. The fool smiled under his piercing stare. “You are already lying to me. Kalluto reported that you spoke of this matter with at least one other person. Is that not the pink-haired woman? Must I interrogate her, as well?”

Hisoka chuckled, holding up his hands. “I don’t think anyone’s ever caught me in a lie so quickly! Yes, Machi knows. And I guess I should tell you the rest of the Phantom Troupe does, too. Whoops~.” He laughed, face free of guilt.

Illumi’s expression was irate. “I should have killed you all.” Karma had never struck faster on him.

“Why, did you get in trouble? Does it matter that you’re an omega?” Hisoka looked quite curious.

“Of _course_ it matters. I’m immune to heat-suppressants. If my omega status becomes common knowledge, my one time-frame of weakness will become exploitable to the targets I’m hunting.”

The clown’s eyes widened. “You’re immune? So… you get unstoppably horny for one whole _week_ in a month?” He needed to know.

“Don’t,” Illumi said. “Don’t say a word.”

Hisoka grinned like a predator. “Do you jerk off a lot in that week? Do you think of my smell? Do you imagine me fu⎻⎻”

* * *

 

“So this is the two hundredth floor?” Gon remarked, looking around. Killua followed his gaze. “It doesn’t really feel different,” the young Zoldyck commented. “I thought it would be more interesting. Guess I didn’t miss much when I quit at 199.” They shared a look and smiled.

“Let’s check it out!” Gon suggested, excitedly. “Of course,” Killua affirmed, pacing up the halls with him.

They went down the hall, glancing at each door, until they ran into a clerk. The clerk on the two hundredth floor seemed devoid of all energy, like a customer service center after Christmas Eve. “Hello, welcome to floor 200,” she said, incredibly lackluster. “How may I help you today?”

“We just got here! We’re looking around to see what we’re up against.” Gon said it with a perkiness and joy that the clerk clearly didn’t have, and she cringed away from his bright spirit.

_Relatable_ , Killua thought.

The clerk shrugged, and told them, “Ok. Have a good⎻⎻”

She was interrupted by a loud crash, and a reverberation from a higher floor. Gon and Killua’s heads snapped up, looking around to see if the building was collapsing. The woman didn’t even budge, just sighed and picked up her walkie-talkie.

“Heard a crash. Surveillance, what’s the situation?”

A buzz and a crackle, and whoever was on surveillance described the scene. _“Two fighters on floor 224. I repeat, two fighters on floor 224. Severe property damage and possible injury, we’re going to need back-up. Over.”_

The two kids shared another look. “Killua,” Gon whispered. “Let’s race.” Killua grinned widely, and they took off to the stairs. “Wait,” the clerk said, waving after them. They disappeared into the hallways and she shook her head. 

24 flights of stairs later, and Killua came out of the doors first. “Hey!” Gon said, still running behind him. “No way! You pushed me!” They ran down the hall, searching for the source of the noise. “You never said I couldn’t,” Killua remarked, snickering. Gon huffed and surrendered the case, because he hadn’t.

“Where is th- oh, that way, I see-”

Gon stopped, running right into Killua’s still frame. “Eh? What is it, Kil…” He drifted off, looking around his friend’s body. Whatever they heard from 24 floors down definitely looked like it had happened here.

“Aniki?” Killua whispered, perfectly motionless. He looked straight ahead, face pale-white.

There was a gaping hole in the wall, rubble everywhere. Hisoka was on the floor, grinning up at his assailant. Thin fingers were wrapped tightly around his neck, which was a mistake, because now Illumi had the clown’s smell all over his hands.

Hisoka was releasing his scent in waves. It was the only thing saving him. Illumi had a hand covering the bottom half of his face, desperately trying not to breath the smell in, but it was a losing battle. “Killu?” He said, muffled. “Why are you here?” There was genuine confusion in his voice. 

_He didn't know,_ Killua thought, feeling his anxiety wash away from him. The younger sibling breathed a deep sigh of relief, and almost choked on Hisoka’s thick aura. “Y-you,” he coughed like a dying whale, “You didn’t know I was,” more violent coughing, “Jesus Hisoka can you fucking stop that,” Killua pleaded, tearing up and holding his nose. He wasn’t sure which was worse, breathing through his nose or breathing through his mouth. He felt like he was ingesting the god-forsaken clown’s scent, and it made him want to vomit.

Illumi glared down at the source of his problems. “Hisoka, my little brother is an alpha, I’m sure you smell terrible to him.”  
  
“Gon’s an alpha too,” Killua stated.

“I don’t care about Gon,” the eldest Zoldyck retorted.

Killua frowned. “I didn’t say it for your benefit, I said it for Hisoka’s.” His shoulders squared up defensively as he spoke.

The clown peeked over. “Oh~? Gon? I haven’t seen you in so long.” His scent began to calm down, to everyone’s relief. Gon peeked out and waved at him, pinching his nose between two fingers. “Hi, Hisoka,” he said, a bit nasally. “What happened to you guys?”

The clown hummed in thought. “Nothing, really. It’s just that Illumi here is in denial,” he said pleasantly, hand motioning to the man on top of him. “He won’t admit how much he’s enjoying this.”

Illumi almost stabbed him.

“I should kill you,” the assassin muttered dangerously, fingers still wrapped around Hisoka’s neck, “I should just kill you and get it over with. I don’t have to deal with this.” Hisoka shivered. It wasn’t out of discomfort.

Killua wanted to gag. “Is this fucking foreplay?” he whispered quietly to himself, desperately not wanting to know the answer. Gon looked back and forth between the two, and asked, “Are you guys friends or something? That’d be kind of scary, actually…”

“Oh, I think we’re passing that boundary,” Hisoka replied, chuckling at Gon’s innocent expression.

“No,” Illumi retorted, in a much colder voice. “Assassins don’t have friends.”

“But they do have lovers,” the clown quipped. “I mean, you had to have come from somewhere, right?” Killua dry-heaved. It had nothing to do with the scent anymore, and everything to do with fucking Hisoka of all people making observations about his parent’s sex lives. “Christ," the younger Zoldyck choked, gripping his chest like his lungs were going to collapse. "Can you guys get off of each other, this is fucking embarrassing.”

Illumi took that moment to really observe how his position looked like to the outside world. He decided that yes, being on top of Hisoka while the clown had such an obviously turned on face was, indeed, embarrassing.

He got up, and dusted himself off, returning to the other problem. “Killu, what are you doing here? Haven’t you already gone through Heaven’s Arena before?”

Killua was momentarily silent, quelling his own instinctual reactions. 

He wasn’t sure what to say to his brother, whether or not his words would determine if Illumi would send him back home. He was _different_ this time around; Gon, Kurapika, and Leorio had all chased after him, even after he’d given up on his convictions to escape his home life. Killua wouldn’t back away after he'd gotten this far.

Gon spoke up. “He’s training with me. I’m going to punch Hisoka,” the boy answered, eyes burning with a deep-set determination.

Illumi glanced incredulously at the young boy. "I wasn't asking you," he said simply. Hisoka piped up, voice speaking over his. “That’s what I like to hear, Gon~.” The clown sang his name happily, hands on his hips. He seemed pleased by whatever he was witnessing in the young boy’s expression.

“But… you two aren’t ready yet.” Hisoka relented with a sigh, eyes glinting with what Illumi recognized as impatience. _Wait a minute, you two?_

“I don’t care what you do to the brat, but leave my little brother alone,” the assassin snapped.

Gon looked offended, but not by Illumi's name-calling. “Not ready? You don’t know that!”

The green-haired boy looked ready to throw down right now just to prove it. Killua stopped him with a hand, shaking his head. “No, Hisoka’s right. Don't rush into this, Gon.” The boy looked over at his friend, insulted and confused. "Killua? What are you saying?" he asked, quietly. 

"You don't believe me, Gon?" The clown smiled.

He stood still, letting a very different aura spill out of his body.

The waves were thicker, tangible. Gon could see dark, swirling colors in the air, could feel the impact of each wave reverberating into his own bones. He felt the hair on his arms raise, like pin pricks, or the slow motion version of an electric shock. His stomach twisted in on itself, as though all of his organs were shuddering at the same time. He turned to Killua, seeing the other boy struggling as much as he was. “What is this?” Gon asked, swallowing thickly.

“Remember what Wing said?” Killua whispered to him. “Nen.”

Hisoka clapped once. “Good job!” He said, nen all but disappearing back into him. It was like gravity had suddenly stopped existing, and Gon felt like he could float.

“I’m sure if you already know the concept, you must be learning it as well... I can’t wait~,” the clown drawled, eyes glinting. “Don’t disappoint me.”

* * *

 

“What exactly was the cause of this,” the clerk said, looking upon the scene. Apparently she had taken a little long because she had to wait for an elevator to come up from floor one.

Hisoka shrugged. “It was an accident,” he said passingly.

“An accident,” the clerk repeated, looking at him with a deadpan expression.

“Yes, I fell over and took the wall with me.” Killua and Gon shared a bemused look.

“Ah, I see,” the clerk raised a brow. She turned to Illumi. “And you were strangling him, because?”

“I was trying to catch him.”

She nodded. “By the neck?” Illumi made an affirmative sound. “And, you held him on the ground for five minutes…?”

“To check his pulse. Naturally.”

Killua choked down a laugh.

“Those are your stories, huh? Well,” she looked at the damage caused to the hall. “I guess your insurance covers this. You’re lucky you’re in one of the top 50 floors, Mister Morow, I don’t think you could get away with such a blatant lie otherwise.”

Hisoka smiled.

“But you, you’re just a visitor, right?” She turned back to Illumi. “The damage to his private room is covered, but the rest of the hallway, well, we can’t dismiss your role in it…”

“Actually, I’m looking to join Heaven’s Arena.” Illumi said this while looking directly at Killua. Under his breath, the younger Zoldyck cursed.

“You are? Well then, fill out the forms, and good luck. You’ll make it to two hundred in no time.” She seemed more energetic. “Not my problem anymore,” the clerk muttered, walking away.  

The assassin smiled, for the first time in the day. He turned to his younger brother.

“Killu, if you want, now would be a great time for me to start training you to use nen. We can even fight each other.”

“No,” Killua said, instantly.

Illumi frowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a firm believer that it ain't a true HxH fic until Gon and Killua make a cameo. Doesn't matter if the fic took place before they were even born. They gotta make an appearance somehow. Now that the two buddies are here, we can run full speed. And yes guys, we are officially in the Heaven's Arena arc! I could hypothetically rewrite all of HxH from here. fucking hell. 
> 
> Side note, I love Hisoillu fanart where Chrollo is subjected to being a part of their romantic shenanigans. Where he's got this obvious lost face, like "why the fuck did you draw me into this." How Chrollo feels is exactly how I imagine the rest of the world reacts to Hisoillu.


	6. When You Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illumi and Hisoka have a heart-to-heart conversation in the middle of the night. It goes on the list of Illumi's regrets.

It had been a day since the hallway incident, and Illumi was adjusting to life as a fighter in Heaven’s Arena.

He’d signed all the forms he needed, reluctantly settling down for the night in Hisoka’s room. At first, he’d planned to truly stay for just a week. It had been a matter of clearing up any interrogations he had with that clown fool, but the assassin changed his mind once he realized that he could finally keep an eye on his younger brother. It was a temptation he simply couldn’t resist.

Fortunately for Illumi, Gon was very predictable. Whatever the brat said he would do, he would most likely do.

If Gon swore to train until he could battle Hisoka, a process which would most _certainly_ take many months, he’d train right at Heaven’s Arena for as long as it took. This meant that Killua would be stationed in the arena, fruitlessly following the other boy. In most situations, it was a bad thing, but the young Zoldyck would be just fine here.

And besides, Illumi had not been joking about training Killua with nen. He would have done it earlier, if his dear little brother hadn’t run away from home.

“What are you thinking about?” Hisoka asked, voice floating over from the bed. His words disrupted the complete silence of the room, shaking Illumi from his contemplation.

The clown rustled in the sheets, turning to Illumi’s form on the floor. The assassin turned his head an inch, staring back from the corner of his eye.

“Can’t sleep, hm?” Hisoka’s eyes were half-lidded, arm resting over all of the empty space still left on the bed. “There’s a lot of room up here, you know.”

Illumi didn’t grace those words with a response.

“I make sure my breath is always even,” the assassin remarked. “How can you tell if I’ve fallen asleep or not?”

Hisoka hummed, ruminating on the question. “I’d tell you,” he said, “But then you might never sleep around me again.” Funny, like people were generally comfortable sleeping around Hisoka or something. “Your breathing stays the same, but…”

Illumi looked at him with wide eyes. “Do I do something different?” The Zoldyck asked with real curiosity. This was an important matter. What if it affected his assassination work?

Hisoka played with the bedsheets. “Weeeell,” he drawled, eyes fixated on the patterns his own fingers were making. Illumi waited with some level of impatience. “I’m not sure. I was actually going to see if it were true tonight, but then you never fell asleep.”

“Just tell me, already.”

The clown chuckled. “No sense of mystery with you.” He smiled, and Illumi could see the curve of his lips in the pale moonlight. It was very distracting, just like Hisoka’s scent. Maybe that’s why he was having trouble sleeping in the first place. Too much of that clown’s scent everywhere.

“It’s your natural smell,” Hisoka elaborated. “You control it when you’re conscious, but I started noticing something during the Hunter exams. Your body lets out some of your natural scent when you’re sleeping. Most likely, all those lotions you put on everyday wear off by night.”

Illumi sighed. He was slowly beginning to regret every aspect of that exam in his life.

“Perhaps if I reapply them before I sleep, I won’t have this problem,” he spoke, thinking out loud.

Hisoka made a sound of disappointment. “For something you consider a problem, _I_ quite like it.”

The comment made the assassin’s eye twitch. He turned an irritated glare to the clown. “It’s not about whether or not _you_ like it. It just doesn’t serve a purpose for my family’s goals. Therefore, it’s a problem.” Wasn’t it obvious?

“And?” Hisoka retorted, smirking back. “You were born an omega, weren’t you? You can’t avoid your reality, so why not enjoy it?”

Illumi fell silent.

Concepts like enjoyment were completely foreign to him. He wasn’t raised to lead an existence chasing pleasure. He was nothing like Hisoka, who constantly seeked diversions. The assassin had a concrete goal, and he followed it everyday with each contract he took.

A night like this was just a small detour in the paved road that was his life.

The thought made him feel strangely hollow. They laid there in the dark for a while, breathing quietly but not saying anything. Neither fell asleep. “Hisoka?” Illumi asked, so quiet he could have imagined it.

“Yes?”

A pause. The assassin felt strange, realizing he’d never asked this question to anyone else. “What do I smell like?”  

There was another moment of sheets rustling, as the clown readjusted his position on the bed. Finally, he leaned over on the pillow, peering over at his companion more intently.

“I don’t know, Illumi, I’ll need to go by more than a whiff to tell you that. How about you come up here?” He waved a finger in front of the other’s face. Illumi scoffed at him, smacking the hand away.

“Ah, that’ll do,” Hisoka stated, grabbing at his wrist. The clown playfully lifted it towards his face.

“Hey, stop that,” Illumi chided him. He clawed against his grip, but it was no use. “Let’s see now,” Hisoka murmured. His cheek was touching the edges of the assassin’s palm.

He leaned into his hand, inhaling deep. His eyes fluttered shut, and he laid there in that strange position, bending off the side of his bed, breathing in. Every time Hisoka exhaled, Illumi felt his skin tingle. He was paralyzed on the ground, watching the rise and fall of the other’s chest. 

The change was almost immediate, so immediate that it must have been subconscious.

Hisoka’s scent seemed to shift. It settled deeper into Illumi’s skin, but it was a pleasant feeling, as though the mere act of smelling the other’s wrist had been enough to alter the alpha’s generally hostile pheromones. That smell often set people teetering on the edge, but this one seemed personally directed towards the assassin, permeating around him in a slow, soothing way.

It was like sinking into warm blankets, or drifting in a fragrant bath. Such were small comforts that any Zoldyck would have long forgotten.

However, the man didn’t seem to realize his own change, and that unsettled Illumi even more.

“Hmm.” Hisoka’s eyes opened again, glinting gold in the dark. “Maybe a taste test.” He stuck out his tongue.

Illumi wrenched his hand away. The only alpha who had that kind of control over his mood was his father, and it was a damn uncomfortable thought that the clown fool could bring out such a reaction in him.

“Well?” He folded his arms together defensively.

The clown fool just smiled. He seemed boneless compared to before, lolling onto the pillow. He stared openly at Illumi, blinking slow. “I know I’ve said it before, but you should really stop wearing lotion,” Hisoka foolishly suggested, as though he hadn’t been talking to Illumi for the last day about all the potential risks of this.

“You smell like…” He stroked his chin in consideration. “Machi once described it as mint tea. She said that was what I smelled like, after I’d been hanging around you.” Hisoka rolled back onto his bed, facing the ceiling.

“But, there’s more to it…” he pondered, drifting in his own thoughts. “Your smell makes me think of a forest after it rains. It's something I can get lost in.”

Illumi felt his cheeks heat up. Once again, his own body was betraying him.

“Maybe it's because the Zoldycks live on a mountain, but you've inherited some part of it in you. Cheesy, huh?” Hisoka turned and propped his chin in his hand, grinning cheekily. “I can certainly tell you didn't grow up in a city. You don't have any of its scents at all.”

The assassin just nodded, looking curiously at his own wrists.

“So, what do I smell like?”

Hisoka had posed the question quite suddenly. Illumi blinked, staring at him with a blank expression. “I don't know, can't you smell yourself?”

A pout. “Illuuumi, you _know_ that's not how it works. Come on, I told you already, now tell me.”

Hisoka waved his hand in front of Illumi’s face, and the other (very reluctantly) leaned in and sniffed.

As he suspected, his own bodily reaction was terrifying. It was not that he found Hisoka’s scent unpleasant, a fact that was a problem on its own, but that Hisoka smelled so pleasant that he could feel his defenses actively lowering. It was a problem he’d been constantly having since he’d started noticing the clown’s scent in the first place.

Illumi had tried very, very hard to disregard Hisoka’s presence in his life, or at least he tried to bar it from affecting him. He kept the other at an arm’s length, yet who could possibly ignore that man?

In this lifetime, Hisoka had garnered a myriad of enemies whose singular focuses were to fight and defeat him. He was the star of countless people’s stories, the arch-villain behind an unending list of defeats. And now, he came knocking on Illumi’s door, demanding _his_ attention as well.

“How frustrating.” Illumi turned away from the proffered hand. He was angry at himself.

“Hm~? My scent? That’s a strange descriptor, though I suppose I do piss off quite a few people.”

It wasn’t what the assassin had meant, but he didn’t care to correct it. His personal frustration had been born from the fact that he’d let himself fall into emotional turmoil over someone who wasn’t a Zoldyck family member. The clown fool deserved neither his time nor his attention, and yet...

It was just that Hisoka’s smell settled into him like it belonged there. He couldn’t control it, which was the worst part.

The assassin knew, deep down in his heart, that he hadn’t actually needed to see the other man for a week to find out what he wanted to know, but here he was, staying for months. How could Illumi explain that to his parents?

Was Killua a reason, or an excuse?

“Is that all you have to say about my scent? I’m a bit disappointed.”

He snapped back into reality, looking at the other man. Hisoka had his head tucked in his arms, watching as the assassin fell deeper into his own thoughts. Illumi hesitated. “I hadn’t said anything about it yet.”

“Oh?” The clown smirked. “You seem to like it, though. Your own scent is starting to overpower all of that lotion.”

Illumi took that as a sign to reach into his bag, scavenge for his bottle of skin lotion, and lather it all over his hands and neck.

He doused himself until he was sure he smelled like nothing but the neutral scent of his customized bottle. It was a bit extra, honestly. If he kept using his stock like this, he was going to have to put in an order for some more.

Hisoka watched this, frowning slightly. After Illumi was clearly finished, he spoke up once more. “I’m never mentioning your smell to you again. And you still haven’t told me what _I_ smell like.”

Illumi just sighed. “I’m thinking,” he replied, with some irritation. He was thinking of a way to explain it without saying, _‘it’s a nice smell that I find myself enjoying for no justifiable reason other than genetics.’_

“When I first met you, I thought you had killed someone,” Illumi began. Hisoka nodded, eagerly awaiting. “Which, in retrospect, is a likely possibility. But I also realized that you generally smell like blood.” It was the main reason Hisoka’s scent made many people anxious, but when Illumi smelled it, he just thought _home._ It was the scent of death that followed Hisoka, and it consequently lingered over the Zoldyck household.

“I find it ironic that you say I smell like my surroundings,” Illumi commented passingly. “I believe you fit with my surroundings more. But you’re a bit tangier, and your scent is very strong. My family and servants all know how to control their own scents, so our secondary genders become hardly noticeable, but I smell alpha written all over you. I don’t think you could ever learn to hide it subconsciously.”

The clown nodded in agreement. “I never bothered. Fucking with people is just too fun.” He was grinning that pleased grin of his.

Frustrating, indeed.

Illumi suddenly remembered that he had one last question to ask.

It was the one he’d been thinking about ever since the night with the Phantom Troupe. “Hisoka? Why did you offer to buy me out of a contract in the first place?”

The clown didn’t say anything at first, just paused. “I don’t really know. I just did it.”

That wasn’t an acceptable answer.

Illumi’s displeased expression was enough of a signifier, and Hisoka settled down and thought longer.

“I have my own interests for joining the Phantom Troupe, and your interests conflicted with that.” Hisoka smiled and finished there.

“So? You could have fought me.” Illumi narrowed his eyes.

“I…  Hm. I guess I could have.”

“...But?”

“But that’s no fun.” And clearly, all Hisoka cared about was having fun. “I said it once before, but I don't think I understood myself until now. Illumi, I don’t want to fight you anymore. I’m already unraveling all your carefully thought out plans and I've barely lifted a finger. And it’s nice, seeing how I derail you from your natural course while I hardly have to do anything at all.” 

Hisoka stared at him with the eyes he reserved for the most tantalizing of opponents. “The truth is, your reactions amuse me. I _love_ it when you fall apart.” _And I love being the cause,_  were the unspoken words lingering on his lips. 

Illumi wanted to lay down and die. 

“I’m just another source of entertainment for you?”

“Well, no. I don’t think I could get this feeling from anyone else…”

“So I’m a _special_ source of entertainment?”

“...Because no one else is as uptight as you are,” Hisoka finished, laughing.

* * *

 

 

“Mister Morow, if you’re the type to keep falling through walls like this, maybe you should stop wearing 4 inch heels.” It was 2 in the morning, and the clerk had bags under her eyes like a poor eyeshadow job.

“It’s my new shoes, I’m still breaking them in. I’m trying to go for 6 inches.”

“I see. So you’re wearing your stilettos to bed now.”

Hisoka gave a coy smile. “I wear a lot of different clothes to bed now. It’s always fun to… _try new things_.”

“Hm. Ok.” She gave a blank stare, actively trying to forget. “And you?” The clerk, once again, turned to Illumi. “Are you ‘checking his pulse’ in bed, too?” She raised her brow.

“No, I just tossed him through the wall because he pissed me off.”

The clerk blinked. “Oh, honesty. Wow. You know, Heaven’s Arena can only tolerate so much damage outside of the stadiums.”

“My insurance covers it,” Illumi said confidently.

“You don’t even have a room yet. You just joined yesterday. Your insurance covers a can of soda.”

“I have money.”

The clerk nodded, turning to walk away. “Ah, no wonder. It’s always the rich kids. Ok then, I’m going to bed. Mister Morow, we’ll relocate your room again in the morning, but please settle your relationship issues without wrecking the private rooms. If you want to fight so bad, you can battle each other in the actual arena.” She waved off lazily.

 _Relationship issues?_ Illumi thought indignantly. _What?_

Hisoka laughed. “Don’t worry, when he settles down a little, the only thing you’ll have to worry about is the bed!”

The clerk walked away faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!!! I disappeared for the week because I went to Otakon! It was so awesome, I got a ton of HxH art at the artist alley. So exciting. Now I'm back, with yet another 8 page chapter of literally only one scene lmao. Peak writing skills. This is more of my character and relationship development chapter, and I hope you liked me delving into their reasons for liking eachother, not that Illumi said it like that. 
> 
> Also, this fic is really blowing up past my expectations. I'm so happy that people want omegaverse Hisoillu, and thank you all for your kind comments! I will be updating faster since convention work is done, so expect more of Gon and Killua :) and Illumi being moody as fck, of course.


	7. Break and Build

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illumi falls apart at the seams.

A week had passed.

Illumi saw to it that he rose to level 200 as quickly as possibly, in order to avoid being Hisoka’s roommate for very long. His name had reverberated through Heaven's Arena, especially since there was a great deal of speculation about his relations to Killua, who was now a rising star.

Unfortunately, there were also plenty of rumors that he had some special relation to Hisoka.

He'd first heard about it when he'd reached the 150s.

Illumi himself wasn't a particularly entertaining fighter (he generally just grabbed people and slammed them into the floor), so announcers and advertisers had to find different ways to appeal to the audience. Unfortunately, his greatest fan appeal was his mysterious connection to the two other popular fighters of Heaven’s Arena.

At the time, Illumi was preparing to fight against a rather unremarkable alpha martial artist. He’d met plenty of the type by then. They were hardly worth a second glance.

The announcer for Illumi’s battle had introduced him, saying, “And on the right we have Illumi Zoldyck! We know for sure he's related to Killua in some way, but fans are also saying he's got something going on with _the_ Hisoka Morow!!! They certainly look like they buy the same clothes!”

She had laughed when she said it. The crowds cheered excitedly.

Illumi's irritation hit the ceiling.

_Did you just say I dress like that fucking clown?_ He thought, hardly listening to the referee. The battle began, and the announcer continued eagerly.

“Now! Illumi's signature move is a slam down with his palm! I've heard he's personally used it twice on Hisoka, maybe the magician likes it rough!” More laughing, and more excitement at the thought of Hisoka's dramatic lover. The alpha was edging towards him, watching warily. Illumi didn’t even care.  

“Fighters like these need a bedroom of steel!!” She winked.

The assassin snapped. He stormed up and took his opponent, grabbing the poor man by the neck. There was no time for mercy.

Using all of his force, Illumi threw the body directly at the announcer's window. His opponent landed just under the target with a loud bang, dying instantly. The sound echoed, and on all sides, the cheering masses went silent.

Illumi raised a hand, pointing directly at the woman in the window.

_“Never,_ **_ever_** _, mention Hisoka again.”_

Every microphone in the arena caught his demand.

In the silence of the stadium, the referee announced the winner with a shaking voice.

* * *

 

A few days after that battle, Illumi had cemented his presence on the 200th floor.

He finished his week in a comfortable room a couple floors under Hisoka, and he only had to suffer the clown’s presence when he visited. Illumi’s popularity had skyrocketed, as well as the scrutiny surrounding his private life.

Despite the assassin's attempts to silence the announcer's goading, gossip had blown up beyond proportion.

That battle was the first time he had killed a fighter. Usually, Illumi felt little need to draw attention to himself, so he didn't see it as necessary to use his full strength against the fighters of Heaven's Arena. However, he wasn’t going to be able to stay in Heaven’s Arena very long if every one of his battles consisted of people speculating on his nonexistent love life with Hisoka.

It seemed that Illumi's fervent denial of the matter served to solidify its truth in the audience's minds. Announcers didn't test their luck anymore, but advertisers, the media, and even fans online had plenty of things to say on the matter.

The issue was beyond irritating.

Hisoka found it amusing.

...And Killua found it horrifying.

Two days after Illumi moved into one of floor 218’s private rooms, he’d had a run-in with his younger brother and Gon. The Zoldyck heir barely looked him in the eye, which was not unusual, so Illumi greeted him anyway.

“Good morning, Killu. I’ve made it to 218, if you didn’t know. I see you are already learning the concepts of nen from someone, but I would still like to teach you as well. Care to train together?”

“...” Killua looked at him warily. “Not really,” the boy admitted.

“Hmm,” Illumi had zero intentions of taking no for an answer. “Who are you learning from? Are they stronger than me? Could it be possible that they know you better than I do? I assure you, they don’t.” He stared down his little brother, waiting for the other to deny it. “I’m the best teacher you could have, Killu.”

Gon spoke up, the nerve of that boy. “You don’t know Killua at all.”

He’d said it passingly, as though it were just an obvious statement. Killua looked at his friend with openly shocked eyes, before turning those eyes back to his older brother. “Is that so, Gon,” Illumi asked frostily. The young, green brat nodded once. The assassin just scoffed and said, “What a claim to make! Killua, friends have no place over your own family. I raised you. _Remember that_.” It was a gentle reminder.

He turned to walk away, already formulating plans to get his foolish younger brother to rightfully take on his tutelage. This was not a matter Illumi would easily let go.

“Aniki,” Killua called after him.

The assassin paused on the other side of the hall.

They stood in silence. He could tell that his younger brother was mustering up the courage to say something to him. “If friends have no place over your family,” Killua began, hesitantly, “Why did you run away from home to saddle up with Hisoka?”

“ _What?_ ” Illumi exclaimed, eyes wide. How the fuck did Killua arrive to that conclusion, of all things?

Killua whipped out his phone, showing a call from his other older brother in the most recent log. “I got a call from Milluki today. You told Gotoh you were going to be back from a contract matter after a week, but mother got worried after you’d gone missing for an extra two days. She’s freaking out about it, and they asked me to confirm that you were here.”

_Fuck_ , Illumi thought.

“At first, mom thought that you just decided to stay and watch me.”

_Oh, good_. The assassin felt his worry dissipate.

“But dad texted Hisoka, and now everyone is freaking out that you really ran away into the arms of an alpha.”

“Father te- he did _WHAT?_ ” Illumi almost screamed.

Killua repeated himself. “Dad texted Hisoka, Hisoka texted back, and are you really dating that psycho clown? Seriously? I didn’t want to believe it at first, but things are starting to make sense...”

Illumi vaguely heard what his brother was saying. The most important sentence he’d gotten out of that was, “Hisoka… texted back?”

Killua nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know what he said, but mom’s hysterical.”

Illumi turned, and booked it to floor 224.

* * *

 

Hisoka had just finished his morning shower when Illumi unceremoniously burst through his bedroom door.

“Hisoka where is your phone,” Illumi said, so fast that he might have exhaled it out in one breath.

“What?”

“Your phone, where is it,” the assassin was already rummaging through his clothes.

“Oh, is this about your dad texting me?”

Illumi stopped, dropping his head in his hands.

“Good god, this is really happening,” he whispered under his breath. He turned to the clown fool, nearly yelling, “ _Yes_ it’s about my fath⎻⎻” the assassin choked before he could finish his sentence.

Hisoka smiled, utterly naked.

“Yes?”

Illumi shut his eyes, and the next moment that he opened them, he was staring at the wall next to the clown’s head. “Hisoka. Put on some clothes.”

The clown fool smirked. “Hmm… Why should I~? It’s my room. I can do what I want. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

“Give me your phone, then,” Illumi demanded, in a strained voice. He held out his hand, still not looking straight in the clown’s eyes. “You mean...” Hisoka Bungee Gum’d his phone towards him. It had been placed on a nightstand. “...This?” He waved it precariously over his…

Illumi tore his eyes away. Was his face turning red? He couldn’t tell. He needed to get out of there. “I don’t have time for this, Hisoka. When did my father text you? What the hell did you _say_ to him?” He still couldn’t look.

Hisoka laughed, and settled down in a chair. He placed his phone right in the center of his abs, legs spread wide. “Come see for yourself.”

_No_.

“No,” Illumi said. “I would rather die. Put on some clothes before I rip off your dick.”

The clown hummed. “Well, you’d have to touch it to do that.”

He stared at the assassin with a challenging look. His scent started to reek of something powerful, and it was sending Illumi’s nerves into disarray. Not one to back down, Illumi hesitantly edged over, reaching out for the phone. His eyes stayed focused on the black screen, straying nowhere else. Hisoka watched his quiet struggle, grinning.

In a flash, Illumi grabbed at the phone, fingers only grazing against Hisoka’s stomach. By the next second, he was on the other side of the room. The clown only laughed, getting up to look over Illumi’s shoulder while he read the texts.

He leaned in, hair still dripping from the shower. Illumi hardly noticed, too preoccupied with staring at the screen. The latest conversation was this morning, and the number was indeed his father’s. At around 9 AM, it began:

_Hello. Is this the number of Hisoka Morow?_

Illumi wondered how the Zoldycks had scrounged up the clown fool’s number. It was probably Milluki. Dammit.

_Maybe~. Who’s asking_ ⭐ _･ω･_ _?_

_Ah. I see what Illumi meant by the “emoticons”._ At this point, Hisoka chuckled. “Did you really tell your family about my texting habits? That’s so cute of you. What else did you say to them?” He peered over at Illumi’s blank face. The assassin was still reeling at the fact that his father was conversing with Hisoka, and he couldn’t answer.

_I am Silva Zoldyck, Illumi’s father. I would like to clarify whether or not my son has gone to see you in Heaven’s Arena. We know he is a registered fighter now, but there are still some details to his trip that are missing._

_Hmm, he didn’t tell you?_

_He didn’t._

_Well, he did come to visit me… He stayed at my place._ ⭐ _•̀ω•́_

Between that message and the next was a long five minute pause. Illumi could feel his father’s confusion. The endless question of, _“What is this emoticon trying to convey? What could this possibly mean?”_ It was a feeling that the assassin himself constantly had when texting Hisoka.

_Is that so,_ was Silva’s next text. _Then I have a question to ask you, Hisoka Morow._

_Hmm~?_

Another five minute pause between the texts, at which point the clown began to snicker. Illumi didn’t want to keep reading, but he had to. He sucked in a breath and scrolled down.

_Do you plan on mating with my son?_

Hisoka’s snickers devolved into pure, unadulterated laughter. The assassin read the next line over, and over, and over.

_Do I plan to! Lol I’d fuck him right on the stadium if I could. Everyone watching. You could get an HD video of it at three different angles_

_It’ll be my Christmas gift to add to the Zoldyck family collection_

Silva had said nothing after that. Illumi dropped the phone on the floor, turning to stare at the laughing clown with wide eyes.

“ _HISOKA!!!_ ” He screamed, louder than he’d ever screamed in all 24 years of his life. “What the _hell_ were you thinking! You just-! That was my fucking FATHER! You said that to my father!!! How am I going to explain this!!!” He wanted to dig a hole into the floor and disappear. “I cannot believe,” Illumi cried, head in his hands yet again.

“Oooh, come on, Illumi. There’s no way he’d take that seriously. I’m sure your dad knows it was a joke.” Hisoka shrugged at him, still grinning, still fucking naked.

“No! He _doesn’t_ , actually! My parents think I want to _marry_ you!”

Illumi exhaled heavily, breathing like he’d just ran.

The conversation stopped, sinking into total silence. They looked at each other. Hisoka’s eyes were wide, mouth agape.

“What,” he said, stupidly.

Illumi needed to break something. He looked at all the unharmed furniture, blindly reaching for a table. “Fuck everything,” he said, picking up the table. Hisoka quickly stopped him, holding his arms tight. “Stop, stop, stop,” the clown repeated, gripping the assassin towards him. “Get off of me, or I _swear to god_ ,” Illumi spat out, struggling.

“Seriously Illumi, stop, my insurance only covers accidents twice,” Hisoka had reviewed the matter after realizing how long the assassin was planning to stay in Heaven’s Arena.

“Like I care. You pay for it.”

“I’m broke, remember? I gave you all of my money,” all 5 billion of it. “If they kick me out of here, I won’t have an apartment.”

“Hah! Good.” The assassin’s struggles doubled.  

“How cold…” Hisoka sighed. He held the other closer to him, tucking his neck into Illumi’s shoulder. At first, he was met with a great deal of resistance, but the scuffle only lasted until their scent glands touched.

_God fucking dammit_ , the assassin thought, before losing his grip on rationality.

At once, he felt a calming wave wash over him. The fool’s scent blanketed him, with a very clear intention to relax his frayed nerves.

“Calm down,” the alpha urged, holding him close.

The effect was immediately felt.

The assassin’s body responded with little effort. Illumi stopped struggling, and he bonelessly sank back into Hisoka’s embrace. His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing dispelled into deep, sleeplike exhales. For a minute, it felt like nothing had happened at all. Illumi hadn’t realized that such a powerful feeling could exist.

Like that, they lost track of time.

“Wow,” Hisoka murmured behind him. “This is actually… very nice.” The words travelled from the assassin’s ear, down his spine, to his core. It settled there.

“Yeah,” Illumi quietly admitted.

They stayed there for a bit, until Hisoka settled down onto the bed, letting Illumi lay on top of him.

“What are you going to do now?” He asked, softly.

Illumi hardly budged in his arms. “I’m going to tell my parents my plans. Which is, to train Killua to use nen.” He felt the alpha nod behind him. “How are you going to get Killua to do that? No offense, but he doesn’t seem to want to learn from you.”

Even at such a blatant comment, the assassin couldn’t summon any indignation within himself. “I know,” he admitted. “He’s scared, that’s all. But it’s fine, I have my ways of pushing him.”

“I see.”

Illumi felt a twist deep in his gut.

“Hisoka?” he asked. The alpha hummed in response.

“Can you let me go now?”

A pause. “That depends… Are you going to break my apartment?”

Illumi snorted. “No, I’m done.” His moment of fury had passed, and all that was left was to figure out how to explain the entire situation to his parents. Hisoka seemed to sense this as well.

“Can’t we stay like this a little longer?” He felt the clown pout.

“We can’t,” the assassin insisted. “You’re setting off my heat early. I need to go, before we both do something we regret.” Illumi wasn’t ready to be mated, and as much as Hisoka displayed his pheromones, he didn’t think the clown was ready either.

“Hmm…”

Illumi felt a drop of irritation. “Don’t ‘Hmm’ me. Are _you_ ready for marriage?” He had asked it as a rhetorical question, but when Hisoka didn’t automatically respond with a resounding ‘No’, the assassin got a little worried.

“Either way, just… just let me go. I’ll see you in a week.”

Hisoka smiled. “Is that a promise?”

The assassin rolled his eyes. “Sure.” He felt the alpha’s arms loosen up around him, though he was still feeling the after-effects of all that had happened. Illumi dredged himself up, walking towards the door. His body was telling him to stay right in the room, and fall into a heat with the alpha accompanying him.

“See you later, Illumi~,” Hisoka called after his form. The assassin nodded, leaving as quickly as his feet would let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao my story-writing just gets more and more ridiculous. Illumi is fighting his greatest opponent yet, it and it's called denial. 
> 
> Fun fact: I tend to write in the middle of the night, and I listen to all kinds of music to keep me up. I was listening to a future funk artist when I decided on the title of this work. If you haven't guessed, the artist is named Desired :)


	8. The Cycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another heat passes.

Day 4 of his heat, and Illumi woke up in a cold sweat.

It was the middle of the evening, or 9 PM according to the blinking red numbers of his alarm clock. He looked around the room like he was seeing it for the first time, which was really how Illumi felt.

Heats had never been painful to him. They were perhaps irritating, but not gut-wrenching.

This?

He didn’t know what this was. He was laying in his bed, dealing with an inescapable agony, further agitated by the smell permeating his apartment. Part of it was the fact that he’d lived with Hisoka just a week before, and his belongings had retained the clown’s scent.

Illumi had torn apart all of his bedsheets. He was on the verge of burning his clothes, but then the only thing keeping him calm enough to stay in his room would dissipate. The assassin didn’t want to know what he’d do without that anchor, but it would most likely involve storming into a particular room on floor 224 and demanding a mate.

He’d dreamed and dreamed until he was too scared to sleep, and then his wakeful state tormented him until he was too tired to fight the fatigue. It was an endless cycle. The only concept Illumi had of time was the clock by the nightstand, and the burgeoning (ignored) messages in his email and texts.

He was in a state beyond dignity.

Days 1 through 3 were long and grueling, like his first torture sessions before he got used to torture. By day 4, however, he’d regained some semblance of consciousness. There was enough awareness for him to pick up his phone and briefly read his texts.

Illumi blearily looked at his phone screen, sliding it off the nightstand. There were 40 missed phone calls and 26 texts from his mother, approximately 3 texts from his father, and a single text from Hisoka that had apparently been sent the night before.

First, Illumi scrolled through the call log.

His mother had sent him exactly 10 daily calls, at specific times throughout the day, starting from four days ago. He’d had his phone on silent so he simply did not know. The assassin opened his texts from her, seeing them scattered throughout the times of the phone calls.

Every text was a paragraph long.

In her messages, she’d ranted and raved for him to come home. Kikyo emphatically stated that she’d be willing to forgive him for his “momentary lapse in judgement” because she understood how he’d felt; in fact, she’d felt the same way once, too. She criticized his choice in alphas, but then she said she’d be willing to train Hisoka into a perfect Zoldyck, so his actual personality hardly mattered. Illumi scoffed.

At her most desperate, which was around text 19, Kikyo claimed that she didn’t care who Illumi chose so long as he chose _someone_ , because he was already her perfect, darling son, and if he brought home the porn star of Heaven’s Arena, what did it matter? She’d ended by saying that she just wanted her dear eldest son to be happy, and Illumi would apparently be much happier if he returned home, Hisoka optional but acceptable, and built a new nest with his alpha in Zoldyck perimeters.  

It was quite likely that those last few sentences were affected by his father’s opinion on the matter.

After reading his father’s three texts, Illumi concluded that it was the case. Silva had said, just the day before:

_I do not know the extent of your love for this alpha, but I will come to terms with it._

_But I am your father, and you respond to my orders. If you must be with him, you must let me break him, so that he can become one of us. The Zoldyck family will not be separated over two alphas._

_Remember your responsibilities._

The words dropped on him like a sledgehammer.

He sank lower into his pillow, feeling another migraine squeezing at his patience. In truth, this was getting ridiculous. Illumi had yet to explain any of his legitimate goals in Heaven’s Arena, and his family had taken these unfounded theories and ran.

The assassin sighed, completely exhausted. He peered at the singular notification over Hisoka’s name, and clicked it open.

_Hi, Illumi~ How are you? I’m bored._

No emoticon. This was probably one of Hisoka’s more serious texts, though he never told Illumi when he was serious. The assassin mulled over a possible response. After a bit of tossing and turning, he decided to simply type:

_I’ve been better._

After finishing up there, he reopened his father’s text. There was a significantly larger period of thought processing, where Illumi genuinely had no idea what to address first. Everything was a mess. He typed aimlessly.

 _Hello father. I have not answered my phone because I have been in a heat. As of this heat cycle, I am still unmated._ He made this very clear, lest his family come to the conclusion that he was pregnant or something.

 _As for Hisoka's commentary, please ignore him. He was joking. I know, he has a poor sense of humor._ At this point, there was nothing that he knew better.

_I will admit that I initially came to Heaven's Arena to visit Hisoka, but this was to clarify his knowledge of my secondary gender. He was not always privy to this information._

_I would like you to know that Killua is currently studying nen. I intend to aid him in this endeavor, which is why I have decided to stay. I'm sorry I did not make this clear immediately._ 40 calls and 26 texts later, and he really was quite sorry about the matter. His mother's wild conclusions were hard to read.

_Hisoka is not my lover. That is all I can say. I know that you want me to consider settling down, but marrying Hisoka would be the opposite of settling down. He is not a Zoldyck, and he never will be. I doubt there is anything that can make him change._

_I am still open to assignments. If there are any updates, I will let you know._

With that, Illumi dropped his phone and went back to sleep.

* * *

 

Five days had passed since Killua had seen his older brother.

That wasn’t a bad thing, it was just that there were many questions left unanswered.

Being the black sheep of the family, he’d had hardly any information to work with on the whole issue. Killua had done a lot of speculation on Illumi’s reaction to the news, and he hadn’t been sure what to make of it.

“I didn’t think he’d be the type to do that, you know? I can’t believe he’s been lecturing _me,_ ” Killua grumbled, during lunch, “Assassins do _this_ , assassins do _that_ , meanwhile, he’s picking up lovers from a circus, or some shit. Who knows where Hisoka came out of.” Gon sat across from him, sipping on a milkshake.

The boy just shrugged. “They’re not together, though.”

Killua looked at him with a scrutinizing stare.

“ _They’re not together, though_ ,” he mimicked, mockingly. “How would you know, Gon? Do you even _know_ the mating process? Whale Island hardly has internet, let alone porn.” Gon laughed suddenly, trying not to choke on his milkshake at the same time.

“It’s not that, Killua! It’s this,” he tapped his nose, grinning. “I can smell it.”

The white-haired boy just looked irritated. “You can’t smell everything, you dog. Were you even aware that my brother was an omega? He’s always covering his scent, there’s no way you would notice if he’s mated.”

Gon shrugged again. “But… I did know, though.”

Killua scoffed. “No way.”

That earned an annoyed pout from the other boy. “I did!” He insisted. “Actually, I thought it was pretty obvious.” Killua raised a very skeptical brow. “It’s the way Illumi treats you. How defensive he gets, especially when I challenge him.”

“But that’s like, territorial behavior. If anything, most people would mistake him for an alpha because of that.” Killua had been very surprised when he’d learned what an omega was supposed to be like, and that his brother was apparently an omega. Then again, Zoldycks hardly fit into stereotypical descriptions.

“Most people are wrong, then,” Gon said, simply.

Killua looked confused.

The green haired boy continued on, in explanation. “Omegas are the most defensive of territory, but not the way alphas are. Alphas like you and me are just competitive.” Gon stuck his tongue out playfully. “But omegas are very serious about territory in a different sense. They care the most for their nest! They’re like... the mothers who tear apart intruders to protect their children.”

The boy remembered a time where he’d eagerly explored the forest, ignorant of the dangers of encroaching on the territory of motherly animals.

“I would know,” he remarked, “Because I accidentally pissed off this type when I was younger.” Gon scratched the back of his neck, laughing. He’d almost died that time.

Killua glared at him, knowing that the boy was probably talking about a very severe, non-laughable situation. Gon coughed. “Either way, to take away something that an omega recognizes as part of their nest is dangerous. That’s why Illumi can’t stand me, and why Kurapika is so angry.”

Killua nodded, deep in contemplation. His mother and oldest brother’s behavior was starting to add up. “Wait,” he said suddenly, “Kurapika’s an omega, too?” Since when?

Gon looked at him with his brows furrowed.

“You didn’t know? I thought that was _super_ obvious.”

Killua’s eye twitched in annoyance, though he knew his friend hadn’t meant to sound condescending. “Kurapika definitely is one, though I think he tries to cover his scent like Illumi does. But the anger he has towards the Phantom Troupe is an omega-like anger. They destroyed his nest completely, and now he has nothing left to lose.” Gon took a nonchalant sip of his milkshake. “Those kinds of omegas can be really scary,” he finished.

Of course, it made sense. Kurapika’s greatest concerns were for his friends, and though his clan was long gone, his family. If his nest hadn’t been destroyed, he might have been raised to be a normal omega.

Killua was admittedly quite impressed. In regards to people’s natures, Gon was a very keen individual (though he never let on). What a nose. “You were a dog in your past life,” Killua said, with some level of certainty.

Gon merely smiled at the comment.

He continued. “Either way, I can tell that Illumi and Hisoka aren’t mated, but they’re interested in each other.” The young Zoldyck blanched in disgust. “That’s actually probably why Illumi left,” Gon remarked, with some reflection on the matter. “An omega leaves their home if they’ve found an alpha they want to settle with.”

Killua hummed in thought. “I suppose that’s why he can’t inherit the Zoldyck family business.” More importantly, was that why his mother was flipping her shit over the matter? Because her oldest baby was finally being whisked away from her long, terrible reach?

Gon shrugged. “Probably. If Illumi’s going to mate Hisoka, it’ll be hard for him to follow your dad and Hisoka at the same time.”

Killua laughed openly. _What a hell of a dilemma_ , he thought with some humor.

“It’s kind of hard to take my brother seriously now,” the young assassin said, grinning. “I can’t believe I used to be scared of him. I mean, he wants to fuck a _clown_ , for crying out loud.” They dissolved into a fit of giggles, Gon whining ' _eeew_.'

Their phones buzzed at the same time.

The boys shared a look of curiosity.

They reached for their phones, and Killua glanced at his screen first. It was a text message from his brother. Speak of the devil.

He opened it, read the contents, read the contents again, and then paled.

Killua felt dread pool in the very bottom of his stomach. “Woah, Killua,” Gon said, also looking at his phone. “Illumi got assigned to fight me! We were just talking about him!” He showed the screen to the white haired boy. “Look!”

It was an automated email from Heaven’s Arena, announcing Gon’s next battle in bold lettering. Having picked the option in which he could be assigned a fight any day, Gon had subsequently been saddled into a fight with Illumi. He had been given 70 days.

“What a coincidence,” Gon said.

Killua didn’t respond. He turned back to the phone in his hand.

_I will be fighting Gon in 70 days. If you do not train with me, I will kill him. I am expecting a response._

* * *

 

“Oh~? You’re back?” Hisoka asked, spotting Illumi down the hall. He supposed 5 days was long enough for a heat cycle to pass, not that he really knew much about the matter.

“Yeah.”

Illumi hardly even glanced at him. He walked by Hisoka's still form, saying nothing else.

The jester reckoned this was what the inside of a freezer felt like.

“...And~?” He asked, following up to walk side by side with the assassin.

“And nothing,” Illumi said. “I just signed up for a battle. I’m fighting Gon.” He continued walking, even though Hisoka had slowed down. Upon hearing those words, Hisoka frowned quite heavily. “You don’t plan on killing him, do you? I have unfinished business with that boy, after all.”

The assassin fixed him with an annoyed look. “That doesn’t matter to me. What’s so _special_ about Gon, anyway?” He asked, and it was the most emotive that Hisoka had heard him throughout the conversation. _Is he jealous?_ The jester wondered quietly. After a full minute of silence, Illumi piped up again. 

“Hisoka. What would you do, if I killed that boy?”

They stopped in the middle of the hall. The assassin turned to look at him. Hisoka stood there, seriously mulling over the possibility. “I’d be very angry,” he said, honestly. “It’s not everyday I see someone with so much potential. He’s going to be strong in the future, and it’s my interest to tear him down.” A predictable answer. With that, they continued walking.

“What are you seeing? Gon is just some country bumpkin who only has strength and stupidity going for him.”

Hisoka shook his head.

“If you fight him, you might understand. You’ll see why he wins over so many people, like your own little brother.” Illumi’s brows furrowed in complete irritation. He glared at the jester, muttering, “What a delusion. Gon’s just naive, and people are enraptured by his naivety. Killua is dazzled by something he never had, is all.”

Hisoka merely chuckled in response. _He’s definitely jealous._ “Like I said, if you fight him, you might understand. Either way, how was your heat, Illumi~? You know, if you needed me for anything, you could ha⎻⎻”

“I’m not talking about my heat with you.”

Hisoka pouted. “But I thought we were so close, now.” They’d essentially cuddled together in bed, one in the nude. Illumi looked away in embarrassment, or at least Hisoka figured that’s what it meant. “That was a lapse in judgement.”

“Well, then. I guess I’m just one big lapse in judgement for you.” The jester grinned as he said it. Illumi scoffed.

“That’s one way to put it,” the assassin muttered, under his breath.      
  
_He’d make a cute freezer,_ Hisoka thought, smirking mirthfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, after beginning this work 20 days prior, and 8 chapters in, Illumi regains focus on what he actually cares about! Not. This is so temporary. I'm going to wreck him again, of course. 
> 
> I suppose with this timeline, it's been around three months, in the story? Gon's actual 200 level battle was supposed to happen with one of those handicapped fighters, specifically on March 11. I reckon right now, it's March 22. That means May 31 is the day he fights Illumi, which gives him most of the springtime to prepare. Killua is very anxious, and is eating his own words right now. Fun fact: March 11 is my birthday! Which means Hisoka and Illumi spent my birthday smelling each other and comparing scents. I'm still laughing about it.


	9. Negotiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gon tackles the problem at the source.

“Killua,” Wing said, one evening. “Is something bothering you? Lately, you haven’t been able to focus on your aura at all.”

He’d pulled the white haired boy out to the hallway, while the other two young ones were practicing ten.

The hallway wasn’t very well lit, and Killua’s expression was hard to read. “It’s nothing,” the boy mumbled. “Just tired, I guess.”

His words didn’t betray much, but it was still clear how dejected the young Zoldyck had been lately. Wing knelt down to see eye-to-eye with him. “Killua, I’m your teacher now, and I consider you my responsibility. I can tell you aren’t harmonious with your nen, and it’s affecting your ability to practice.”

The boy just looked at him helplessly.

“You can tell me,” Wing urged. “What’s wrong? Can I help?” He was using that gentle voice he had reserved for whenever Zushi needed emotional encouragement. It seemed to work.

Killua’s lip quivered. He stared at his teacher, eyes glinting with held-back tears. “Y-you… you can’t help,” Killua confessed, trembling. “I’m sorry, Wing-san, I wish you could, b-but,” his shoulders shook slightly, “There’s nothing we can do.”

Wing sighed in sympathy, pulling Killua in for a hug.

Of all his students, the Zoldyck had the strongest sense of pride; it was arrogance, even. He was the type to keep his head held high, just to prove that he could persevere through anything. This was especially the case with Gon, a fellow alpha, hanging around him.

Killua would only be so openly defeated about a matter if it was extremely distressing.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Killua,” Wing commented, while patting the younger one’s back. “But you won’t know if I can help or not until you tell me.”

He could tell that Killua was trying very hard not to cry. A moment passed between them. Wing waited patiently, until the boy nodded and sniffled, shuffling out of his hug.

He looked at his teacher with watery eyes.

“It’s…” Killua admitted, “It’s my brother-, he-, he challenged Gon to a battle. My brother’s crazy, and super possessive, and he said if I don’t learn nen from him he’s going to kill _Gon_ ,” his voice broke down again. “And this time he really will do it, because, there’s no rules like there were in the hunter exam, but I can’t learn nen from my brother! The way he teaches me, I’ll never recover, and I don’t want him to manipulate me, he always does that,” Wing’s eyes widened. With every sentence out of Killua’s rambling mouth, he grew progressively more alarmed.

“I told him I just wanted to be normal, but Gon’s right, he doesn’t care about that, he just wants me to come home, and I don’t know what I’ll do if Illumi kills my best friend!” Killua was openly sobbing.

“It’s been two days,” the boy cried. “And I still haven’t said anything to him! If I don’t say something, will he just kill Gon now?”

The door slammed open.

Wing and Killua turned towards the source of the noise. “No, he won’t,” Gon said confidently, standing in the doorway. His expression was one of pure rage. “He’s not going to do _anything_ like that.”

“G-Gon?!” Killua stuttered, wiping his eyes frantically. The green-haired boy turned and looked at him with frustration. “Killua, why didn’t you _say_ anything? Aren’t we friends?” Gon sounded betrayed.

Killua nodded quietly in response, expression wracked with guilt. “I’m sorry, Gon. It’s your life at risk, after all… If it means I just have to train with Illumi for a while, I guess I can do it.”  

Gon said, “No way are you training under him,” and stormed towards the exit.

“Wait,” Wing called, “Gon, where are you going?” The boy took off into a sprint. "Heaven's Arena," Gon replied, already out the door.

Killua followed anxiously behind him. “Gon!” He yelled, “Stop! Don’t talk to my brother, you can’t reason with him!”

Wing watched them go, and looked to his young disciple. Zushi stared back.

“Should we go after them?” The boy asked. “I suppose,” Wing said, albeit reluctantly. “It’s getting late, though. You should stay here.” He got up, walking out of his house, and towards the general direction of Heaven’s Arena.

* * *

 

Gon ran, and ran, and ran, and ran.

He plowed straight through the city, hearing Killua’s desperate cries behind him. He booked it to Heaven’s Arena, getting there in possibly record time, and ran straight up 200 flights of stairs, hopping 6 steps at once.

His body was pumping pure adrenaline. By the time he was at floor 70, he heard, from the very bottom floor, Killua screaming his name. That only served to encourage the boy’s speed, and he was blowing past the 100s in no time.

“Gon! Don’t do it! You’ll _die!_ Please, Gon!” Killua sounded frightened, more frightened than Gon had ever heard him. The fact that Illumi scared his best friend so much just made the boy angrier. The fact that Illumi was using him to manipulate his own little brother made Gon’s blood boil.

He’d finally made it to the 200 levels. Gon huffed heavily, frantically running till the right level was in sight. He turned back only once, screaming a reply to Killua. “Don’t worry!” Gon yelled, at the top of his lungs. “I’ll be fine!”

With that, he entered floor 224.

* * *

 

The door to Hisoka’s room slammed open.

The jester had been wiping off his make-up, getting ready for bed. “Illumi,” he called, from the bathroom. “You know, you could always try knocking. I won’t bite, unless you ask nicely.” If the assassin ever asked at all.

“I’m not Illumi.”

_Woah, was that Gon?_

Hisoka peeked his head out from the doorway. Gon was standing in the middle of his room, breathing heavily, dramatically staring him down. “Hi,” Hisoka said, sliding out of the bathroom. “What are you here for, Gon?” Were they going to fight, right here, right now? An interesting choice.

“I’m here for…” Gon’s eyes drifted.

“Hisoka, you wear pajamas?”

The jester coughed. “Sometimes, yeah.” He supposed Gon got lucky this time. He’d actually done the laundry for once, and had some appropriate nightwear lying around. More often than not, Hisoka just slept in the nude.

“I didn’t know! That’s cool,” Gon remarked blankly. He squinted, looking closer. “Are those...  bubble gum wrappers printed on them?”

“Yeah, it’s Bungee Gum! I actually based my n⎻⎻” Hisoka choked midway. He was so excited about the concept of explaining his nen, he’d forgotten that he planned on fighting the boy in the future. It wouldn’t do for a magician to prematurely reveal his secrets. The jester sighed. “Nevermind, forget it. What’s up, Gon~?”

Gon blinked.

“Oh! Well,” He paused, seeming to return to his senses.

The boy turned around and closed the door behind him. He locked it. He then hopped up onto a chair, putting on a serious face. The jester watched this transpire with a brow raised.

“Hisoka, you like fighting, right?” Gon asked, more out of a need for a statement than for confirmation.

“...Yes?”

Gon nodded. “And you want to fight me, right?”

“Yes... but you’re still not ready yet. What are you asking this for, Gon?”

The boy sucked in a breath. “There’s something I want to talk about,” he stated, after a moment’s contemplation.

Hisoka sat down on the bed, realizing that this was not going to be a short conversation. “What is it? ...Has something changed?” The jester asked, wearing a slight frown. If something had changed, he sure hoped it wasn’t Gon’s convictions.

The green haired boy shook his head. “It’s not that. I still have to fight you.” Hisoka nodded, pleased. “It’s just, I’m worried about Killua.”

The jester hummed in response. “And… what exactly does this have to do with me?” He still had no idea why they were having a conversation, unless Gon had been dared by the other boy to find out what Hisoka wore to bed.

“Illumi told Killua that if he didn’t learn nen from him, I’d die.”

“Ah.”

Of course, Illumi and his death threats. Hisoka had known the assassin long enough to realize that this was a recurring habit of his. “And…?” He pressed on, waiting for Gon to elaborate. The boy frowned, and stated quite seriously, “Hisoka. I’m here to ask a favor.”

“A favor, hmm?” He did like it when people owed him favors. It was certainly a rare matter for Gon to seek other people for help, so the jester's curiosity had been tickled. “What do you need?”

Gon spoke to the point, “You’re the only one who can change Illumi’s mind.” He was quite certain of the matter.

Hisoka stroked his chin contemplatively. “What makes you say that? If anything, he’ll try to spite me somehow…” The assassin may have reacted positively to the alpha’s smell, but that was just about the only positive thing in their relationship. Especially after all their recent drama.

The boy was not deterred by this. He began, “Illumi won’t admit it, but I can tell he’s starting to see you as his alpha. I can smell it.” What an incredibly keen nose. How long did Gon spend in nature in order to pick up such subtle changes in pheromones? “And I can tell you’re starting to see him as your omega. Hisoka, if it’s you, he’ll definitely listen!” The boy nodded assuredly.

“As much as I would like to believe you, Gon, I reeeally doubt that somehow~.”

“That’s only because you guys aren’t together!”

Hisoka snorted. “And _how_ do you propose that we get together?” The jester asked, a brow raised.

Gon paused in thought.

“Um... Uh…” he stuttered, mulling over the matter. “I… I guess,” the boy began, cheeks heated. Hisoka watched his flailing in amusement. “I… I don’t know!” Was that steam coming out of Gon’s ears? “Just, do the bitey thing that all the grown-ups do!” The boy was red in the face like a tomato.

“Ah, the “bitey thing.” Of course.” Hisoka folded one leg over the other. “By that, you mean marking his scent gland, yes?”

Gon just nodded, too embarrassed to speak. Marking scent glands was generally done during an omega’s heat, and an alpha’s rut. Sex during a heat was one thing, but claiming someone’s scent gland was the defining symbol that two people were mated.

Hisoka thought it was quite brazen of the boy to waltz in and demand that not only he have sex with Illumi, but he mark the man for life. He laughed. “Gon,” the man began, smiling in mirth. “Do you, perhaps, think, that I haven’t been _trying_ or something?” Because he had. Despite his rather limited knowledge in pheromones, omegas, and romance, he had.

“Y-you have?” Gon looked like he didn’t need to know that. “But, didn’t he just go through a heat?” In fact, the boy thought that was why he’d come over to Heaven’s Arena in the first place.

Hisoka sighed, “Yes.”

“But you don’t smell any different.”

“...Yes,” the jester said again, more pained this time.

“Why don’t you?” Gon asked, perplexed. If Illumi hadn’t disappeared for a week to be with Hisoka, had he just gone through a heat by himself?

“Gon… I believe I told you once. Illumi is in denial.” He had meant it when he said it. For Hisoka, the matter had been simple. He was following the yearnings of his body, and if this was what he desired, then so be it. Clearly, this was a concept that Illumi struggled with.

“Oh. Well… We have to figure out how to beat that.”

“Yes, I suppose we will. Any suggestions, Gon?” Hisoka was definitely hitting a new low if he was taking suggestions for his love life from a 12 year old.

They sat there, brainstorming possible solutions. “Hmm…” Gon folded his arms, legs swinging back and forth. “ _Hmmm…_ ” He stroked his chin.

Gon sat up suddenly, snapping a finger. “I’ve got it!”

“What?”

He elaborated. “Hisoka, have you taken Illumi out on a date?”

The jester paused, ruminating on the matter. “No, actually…” Was that it? He just hadn’t been traditional enough with his approach? He doubted that was the only issue, but Hisoka supposed that it wouldn’t hurt to try.

Gon smiled. “Let’s plan for your date, then!”

* * *

 

 

Killua had reached floor 218.

In truth, he wasn’t quite sure which room was his brother’s, since he didn’t actively seek Illumi out. The boy supposed it was a matter of finding where Gon was making the most ruckus.  

The problem was, he couldn’t sense Gon at all. Had he hidden his aura? Maybe. His friend could be tricky sometimes. In that case, Killua would just have to find Illu-

“Killu?” His brother greeted, directly behind him.

A full-body shiver wracked through Killua, and he swiftly turned around. “A-aniki,” the young Zoldyck stuttered. For a moment, he forgot what he was there for. Illumi looked at him expectantly, tilting his head. “Were you going to visit me, Killu?” the older Zoldyck asked with a smile.

Killua’s initial inclination was to deny anything of the sort, but he remembered why he was there. If Illumi wasn’t in his room, that meant Gon might not have reached him yet. There was still a chance to stop all of this. “Yeah, I was,” Killua admitted.

Illumi looked quite pleased. It wasn’t a good look on him.

“Is this about your nen practice?”

Killua didn’t answer, just nodded sullenly.

“Have you changed your mind?”

He hesitated. Gon’s life was on the line, again. Killua couldn’t back down twice.

“Yeah… I have.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely one of the more ridiculous chapters I've written... I'm just being silly, at this point. Oh well, comedy is lit
> 
> Also, I'd like to talk about how Gon views Hisoka right now. In the anime, (if my memory serves me well), Gon only starts feeling mildly comfortable around Hisoka after the Greed Island arc, where Hisoka's role shifts from antagonist to support character. Before that, Hisoka is, of course, his first (and worst) obstacle. However, in this fic, it becomes clear that Gon's first obstacle will be Illumi. This is supported by the anime, where Illumi forced Killua to quit the hunter exam and leave Gon for his family duty, and this issue is only amplified in my work. Because of Hisoka's pivotal role to Illumi's temperament, Gon views him as one of the keys to overcoming his and Killua's biggest hurdle... Therefore Gon approaches him in hopes of winning his favor, and beating Illumi at his own game. 
> 
> ......Another factor is that Hisoka's dick is finally distracted by something that isn't related to fighting, and Gon can subconsciously relax around him. That's a pretty big deal lol. This is basically my excuse to write Gon planning Hisoka's date for him, because that idea was too funny to let go


	10. Shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in his life, Hisoka knows the acute fear of rejection.

“So,” Gon began, clapping his hands together.

“You’ve been on a date before, right?” He asked it casually, like it was one of those rhetorical questions. _Of course,_ Hisoka was supposed to say. _I’ve been on plenty of dates. I’ve had a few relationships, here and there..._

The jester stared at him.

“Not really,” he admitted.

Silence. “What?!”

Hisoka coughed and repeated, “...Not really. I don’t think I’ve ever taken anyone out to dinner, or watched movies, or…” He’d offered it to Machi once, but that was just to piss her off. In fact, he did a lot of things just to piss her off. Either way, Hisoka had never had that hand-holding, slow-walking, goodbye-kisses kind of date.

Sometimes, his opponents got mad and wanted to fuck him. That was the extent of it.

Gon sank far back into his seat cushion. He stared openly at Hisoka, shell-shocked. “Really?” he asked incredulously. “Not… not even _once?_ ” The jester nodded.

“This is going to be harder than I thought,” the boy muttered quietly.

Hisoka pursed his lips, folding his other leg over. “Why, are dates hard or something?” As it was, Illumi made everything hard, so he figured it would apply to dating as well. Was it exceptionally challenging if he’d never actually dated before?  
  
“Honestly... Not really, from my experience,” Gon replied, nonchalantly.

_What the fuck?_

“You’ve… you’ve dated?” That was a reality that Hisoka wasn’t ready for.

“Yeah, I’m one of the few alphas on Whale Island. A lot of tourists and older women like me.”

The jester sucked in a breath. “Ok, then.” Perhaps it wasn’t that much of a stretch for him to be looking to Gon for dating advice. With that in mind, he asked, “So what’s the trick to dating, hmm?”

The boy paused, thinking carefully on the matter.

“There’s a few things to it,” he began.

Gon held up a finger. “Your first priority is to make them feel special,” he declared. “Dates are all about spending time with each-other, so all of your attention is on them.” Hisoka nodded. Reasonable enough. His attention was almost always on Illumi when they were together, anyway.

The boy held up a second finger. “Secondly, do something that both of you enjoy!”

The jester laughed out loud.

“Are you sure?” he asked, mirthfully. If they did that, their date would end in prison. Hopefully they got to share a cell.

“Yeah?” The boy retorted, brow raised. With that, he continued. “So, you don’t always have to plan it, but it is nice to be prepared. You can even surprise him! Whatever you choose, it should be something where you guys can talk together and have fun, like playing games, or exploring the town, or…” he gestured off into the distance. “You get what I mean?” The jester nodded.

Gon raised another finger. “Thirdly! Now, I guess this is just how I feel, but the best kinds of dates are the ones where you learn new things. I like showing people stuff they’ve never seen before, and I also like when they teach me something new! It makes it really memorable.”

 _Maybe I shouldn’t have explained my Bungee Gum to Illumi,_ Hisoka thought to himself. That would have been cool to show. Frankly, he had no idea what else he had to offer.

“Now we can think about what to do with all of this, but first things first!” The boy grinned. “We have to decide when you’re going to ask him out!”

The jester nodded blankly. Gon was excited, but Hisoka himself was starting to get worried. Dating seemed much harder than he’d thought it would be. What did Illumi even enjoy doing? Did they have any shared hobbies? How would he be able to surprise the assassin?  
  
“Well, I suppose if we have a few days to prepare, I can try next week? He’s been a bit angry at me since his heat, so I’m not sure how long I have to wait…”

Gon nodded, considering. “A week sounds like a good idea. If we really plan it out, you could even ask him out in a few days!”

“That’s a bit ambitious, Gon, but I suppose~...”

“Let’s shoot for three days!” the boy proposed energetically.

“Three days? That seems a littl⎻⎻”

A few floors below, two incredibly powerful auras erupted.

Hisoka felt a familiar chill. _That’s Illumi,_ he thought suddenly. Gon’s excited grin shifted to an expression of alarm.

“Now,” the boy said, urgently.

“What?” Hisoka asked.

Gon got out of his seat and walked over to the jester. “You have to ask him out, now.”

“Wh-,” The boy grabbed his hand, and bodily dragged him out of his bed. “Gon, what are you doing,” Hisoka slid out of the bed, fumbling after the boy’s fast-paced footsteps. “It’s easy!” Gon claimed, already rushing them out the door. “Just say “Will you go out with me?” and ask him when he’s free!”

“Bu-, Gon-,” Hisoka flailed for an excuse. “I’m still in my pajamas,” he stated, lamely.

The boy looked back and scoffed. “It’s not like you’re _going_ on the date right now. If he asks you what you’re planning, just say it’s a surprise. We can come up with something later!”

With that, they bounded down to floor 218.

* * *

 

Illumi leaned down, ruffling a hand through Killua’s hair.

“I’m glad you changed your mind, Killu. No one knows how to teach a Zoldyck better than family.”

This was especially the case with nen, a power that was best mastered through tests of brutality. The eldest Zoldyck was absolutely certain that, whoever Killua was learning from, they were not pushing the boy to the limits in which he needed to be pushed in order to grow.

This was fine, because big brother would do the job.

“Now, nen is very personal to the user. There’s the raw power you are born with, and the power you gain from conviction. Killu, If I hurt you, it’s only to build up your conviction.” The younger boy swallowed thickly, but nodded. “Good, I’m glad you understand.” Nothing worked better than fear and desperation.

Illumi himself had been constantly driven into corners by his own father, for the sake of building up a strong tolerance and familiarity with nen battling.

Those years of his life had been a nightmare. Silva’s nen was as vast as it was soul-crushing, and he was very devoted to teaching the eldest child. This attitude only lasted until he realized said eldest was an omega. Regardless, Milluki was only three at the time, so the entire family focused their energies on drilling him.

“We will train everyday. I see you have developed Ten, so I will be testing its strength with my own Ren. You also need to master the art of sensing enemies even when they have activated Hatsu, so I will be randomly attacking you while my aura is completely hidden.”

Killua looked extremely unsettled by the idea.

Illumi disregarded this, and continued. “If you are taken off guard, the only punishment you’ll experience are the injuries you sustain.” That would be the only warning the boy would receive.

“Lastly, we will work on materializing your nen into a power, or a capability.”

Illumi’s nen was obviously materialized into needles. Kalluto had mastery over paper. Silva, soulless man that he was, just made giant black holes somehow. “Like I said, the strength of your nen is matched by the strength of your convictions. Our great grandfather was incredibly powerful, because with his nen, he swore to kill one person a day, and he did so for 47 years.” The boy remembered the words hanging around Zeno’s neck, in honor of his old man. _One kill a day._ Their great-grandfather was regarded in the Zoldyck family as a legend.

“That is an utterly ridiculous oath to make,” A voice said behind them. “And horrendously unethical, to boot.”

Illumi whipped his head around. “Who are you?” He hissed, venomously.

Killua’s eyes widened. “W-Wing-san,” he whispered. What terrible, terrible timing. “How did you…”

“Oh, I just overheard you talking about your brother living in floor 218. It took me a while to get here, but it looks like I showed up right on time.”

Illumi narrowed his eyes, turning back to his younger brother. “You know this person?” He asked, irritated that he hadn’t heard of the man, but the man had apparently heard of him. Killua didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to.

“He does, in fact. And he’s told me a lot about you. I didn’t like a word of it.” Wing stood in the middle of the hallway, looking quite firm despite his soft appearance and half-tucked shirt. Illumi just glared at him, as though he was staring at the dirt under his shoes. “As his teacher, I must make it quite clear that I will not allow you to instruct him. Killua needs time and patience to grow, not suffering.”

The assassin gave a loud, sarcastic chuckle.

He smiled down at Killua. “How fortunate, Killu. Not only have you agreed to learn from me, you’ve also led your old teacher into my hands. Now I can kill this fool.” He looked back at Wing, nen rising threateningly. “My younger brother is a Zoldyck, and he will _never_ flourish under your pathetic philosophy. Frankly, I find people like you disgusting. You were meant to die.”

Wing stared back coolly, eyes icing over when he realized that his opponent could not be reasoned with. His nen rushed out, combatting the murderous aura of the assassin across from him.

Killua looked upon the scene in abject horror. This was it. One of the worst possible scenarios. How was he going to explain to Zushi that his teacher had been killed?

Wing saw his terrified expression, and shook his head.

“How can you even call yourself Killua’s older brother?” He remarked, softly. “Can’t you see how hard he’s cried? Have you even thought to comfort him?”

Illumi’s eyes were cold and black. “What a ridiculous suggestion. You don’t know what’s best for my brother.”

The assassin decided not to waste any more words on someone who was going to be a corpse. He raised a needle to⎻⎻

Down the hall, the door to the stairwell slammed open. They all turned to the source of the sound. It was distant at first, but Illumi could hear two pairs of feet sprinting towards them.  

The two turned a corner, revealing themselves to be Gon, and Hisoka... in pajamas?

“Oh thank goodness,” Gon announced breathlessly, holding his chest. “You guys didn’t start fighting.”

“Gon?!” Killua gasped. This was terrible, now it really was the worst case scenario. Wing and Gon were going to die, while Hisoka sat in the background shuffling cards or something.

Illumi looked at them with some level of irritation. “What do you want,” he snapped, eager to return to the impending battle.

The green-haired boy looked determinedly at him, and then turned that look to Hisoka. He pushed the clown forward. “Do it,” Gon whispered.

Hisoka looked back at the boy with what could only be described as an intimidated expression. “Right now?” the clown whispered back. “Seriously?” The boy just nodded, throwing him a thumbs up. Needless to say, the other three in the hallway were helplessly confused.

Hisoka coughed.

“...So,” he began, hesitantly. Illumi watched him with a brow raised, fiddling with the needle in his hand. In the corner of his eye, the assassin saw Gon discreetly slide over to Killua’s side. How annoying.

“Illumi,” the assassin in question turned back, “Will you… go out with me?”

In the background, Killua softly whispered _‘what the fuck’_ , but Gon was already grabbing him and Wing. They were quietly shuffling away.

Illumi had an expression of complete irritation. Every moment he spent tolerating the clown's bullshit, was a moment that could have been spent doing what he was actually supposed to do. “Hisoka, I’m busy. I don’t have time for your pranks.” He turned to the other three lest they escape from his sight.

The clown fool seemed a little hurt. “I’m serious!” He claimed, grabbing Illumi’s hand. “Um, when are you free?”

There was something different in his tone. It didn't have any of that playful drawl that it usually had. Hisoka generally spoke like he was constantly amused about something or another, but this time, that attitude was gone, and it had been replaced with something else. Illumi turned back, genuinely taking a look at him.

From the hand holding his, he could feel that the alpha’s heart rate was skyrocketing... Not to mention how clammy his palm was getting. Hisoka’s expression was unexpectedly shy, as though he was asking someone out for the first time in his life.

Above all, his scent had changed. In all of his time knowing the fool, the eldest Zoldyck had never known his smell to have a tinge of fear. Yet here he was, in the middle of the night, asking Illumi out while looking like he’d just decided not to go to bed. There was nervousness all over his scent.

“You _are_ serious,” the assassin whispered, somewhat amazed. It was something he’d never even dreamed of witnessing. And for Hisoka to be nervous, because of him? Unbelievable.

“Yeah,” the alpha confirmed again. “So, will you? Go out with me, I mean,” he finished, awkwardly. His hand felt extremely warm.

Illumi almost smiled.

Instead, he admitted, “Honestly… I don’t really want to.” It was the truth. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to spend a whole day trying to battle his own wild, mysterious emotions towards the fool. That sounded like hell.

Hisoka dropped his hand.

“Of course,” he replied, a little stilted. The clown’s face was carefully closed off into the expression he wore when he was bored, or focused on anything other than reality. “Goodnight, then. I guess.” Hisoka stiffly turned to walk away, feet padding softly on the carpet. From here, he almost seemed dejected. 

Illumi realized that he couldn’t smell him anymore. The alpha was deliberately hiding his scent.

Somewhere, deep down, he felt… bad. The assassin couldn’t quite describe it. It was that same hollow feeling he got, that night he spent reflecting on his life on the floor of Hisoka’s room. This time, it weighed down on him more heavily.

Illumi opened his mouth, almost letting out words at the clown's vanishing form.

 _Do I really want to do this?_ He thought, in that sector of his brain that he usually disregarded.

Hisoka was almost turning the corner. Illumi felt a deep twist in his gut, and he stopped thinking.

“W-wait,” he called, feeling his hand rise towards the other.

The man stopped in his tracks, turning his head ever so slightly to face the assassin. Illumi couldn’t see his expression, and he really wished that he could. “I… I guess if it’s just one,” he said, hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if Hisoka could even hear him.

It seems he did. The clown eagerly paced back, a delighted smile on his face. “Really~?” Hisoka asked, like Santa had just offered to give him his dream gift. “Just _one,_ ” Illumi clarified yet again. The fool nodded happily. “Of course, of course. Just one. We can try it out. It doesn’t have to be super serious. It’s just a date, between the two of us, when are you free?” His scent was back, and it smelled sweeter than usual.

Illumi was a bit startled, but he recovered himself. He answered, “Next Saturday, I suppose? I’ll have to figure out my training schedule with Kil-, Wait a minute.”

The assassin narrowed his eyes. “Did you just… were you _distracting me?_ ”

“No,” the clown said, guiltily.

“Hisoka, I swear to _god-_ ,”

“-I wasn’t,” Hisoka interjected. “I wasn't! I really just.... Ok so maybe Gon suggested it, but I definitely asked you out because I wanted to.”

There was a tense moment of silence between the two of them.

Illumi’s irritation returned. “You take suggestions from Gon? You know he’s 12, right? What are you doing?” The assassin couldn’t even comprehend the matter. He just shook his head at the clown fool.

“Yeah, you say that, but I’ve never dated anyone in my life and apparently he just... dates all the time.”

“...What?”

“I know,” Hisoka said, with feeling. “I know. I don’t get it either. But, we’re going out next Saturday, right?”

Illumi scrutinized him, eyes narrowed. Hisoka smiled like he was playing a dangerous poker game, and he could hardly hide the fact that his hand was a bluff. “...Right~?” The assassin furrowed his brow in annoyance. He supposed it wouldn’t do to reject Hisoka, now that he knew it had really been the clown’s first time asking someone out. He sighed.

“...Right.”

Hisoka grinned happily. “Yay, Illumi~! You won’t regret it, I promise.”

The assassin scoffed. He’d had about a lifetime’s worth of regret by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha what the fuck am I writing. I'm sure y'all are asking the same. I promise you, I have no answers. Now!!! The next chapter is exciting, because Machi makes a comeback, even though she doesn't really want to :) 
> 
> For anyone wondering why Hisoka had such a visceral fear about asking Illumi out, well, I can explain in the next chapter. As always, it falls back to alpha-beta-omega dynamics.


	11. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Machi unfortunately gets invested on this matter.

Hisoka ambled back up to floor 224, head floating in the clouds.

He felt a grin stretched across his face; it was as though it had been carved in permanently. If anyone walked by, they would probably think he was mentally unstable- not that that’s ever stopped him before.

Life felt wonderful. He compared it to the feeling he got when someone particularly powerful socked him in the face, and his whole brain went hazy. It was that feeling, but in his stomach.

The jester reached his door, nearly missing Gon standing directly in front of him.

“Yo!” The boy greeted eagerly. He bounded over towards the mindlessly happy jester. “How’d it go? He said yes, didn’t he.”

Hisoka nodded, still in a daze. “Yeah, he did. We’re going out next Saturday, to be exact.”

Gon chuckled. “Hisoka, you look so happy right now.”

“Do I~?” He certainly felt it.

The jester wasn’t sure why, but Illumi accepting his offer was completely vital to him continuing on as a person. It sounded ridiculous when he thought about it, but in the moment that Illumi said no, Hisoka genuinely didn’t know what to do with his own emotions.

Talking about feelings at 2 AM was one thing, but dropping the ball in the assassin’s court and hoping for a positive response was another. It made his emotions real, and final.

What would he have done if Illumi truly rejected him?

Hisoka didn’t know.

Gon seemed to notice his distracted state. “I knew he would,” the boy stated, “Accept, I mean.”

“How?” Hisoka asked, in wonder. Was the boy just that good at the dating game? Did he have some sort of radar? He needed to patent it, because he was making miracles happen. “Intuition,” the boy replied, grinning cheekily. “Illumi can’t say no to you, even if he does try very hard to.”

The jester smiled a little, mentioning, “You know, he actually did say no at first. I’m pretty sure he took it back because he felt bad.” Not that Hisoka minded. A pity-date was still a date, after all. So far, in the asking-out ratio, he had a 100% success rate. Machi didn’t count.

Gon laughed. “Illumi has problems, but he still likes you. I don’t think I’ve ever met an omega who would willingly hurt their alpha.”

“Really?”

“Of course! I’m pretty sure if it was anyone else, he would have stuck with a no. But it was you.”

_It was me._

Hisoka felt a giddy feeling bubble up in his chest, and he let it happen. Gon smiled, realizing he had lost the man yet again.

“Hisoka… you’re a lot less scary when I can see you have a heart.”

“Hmm?” The jester blinked, returning to reality.

“I said it’s a lot less scary to plan the next part. Let’s talk about your upcoming date!” With that, they entered Hisoka’s room, eagerly considering all the possible options behind the vast, vague concept of a first date.

* * *

 

An hour into their late night conversation, Gon had realized that there were a lot of holes in their plan.

First of all, Hisoka had no real power over Illumi’s decisions until after they’d mated.

Second of all, unless Hisoka was just _that_ fucking good, they were not mating next Saturday.

Thirdly, where would Killua hide until this mating process was completed?

“Eh… I didn’t think that far…” Gon mumbled, face cupped in his hands. He frowned miserably. And to think, the assassin had already accepted Hisoka’s offer and everything. “Killua is better at this kind of stuff, after all.”

He puffed his cheeks in frustration. Gon smacked the sides of his face, shaking his head vigorously. Killua was the one in trouble, and he couldn’t afford to give up just because he was the inferior strategist.

“I may have dated before, but I’ve never actually mated with someone.” Hisoka breathed a sigh of relief. _Thank god._

Gon continued, “I don’t really know how to woo an omega like that… and I guess two alphas don’t have the best view on this.” He offered up a new proposition to the jester. “Is there an omega you know, that could give us some advice?”

Now that was a thought.

Hisoka grabbed his phone off the nightstand, opening up his contacts. Gon watched him anxiously, feet swinging back and forth in the chair.

He flipped through the log, scrolling, scrolling, scrolling… and he landed in the M category.

 _Machi,_ his phone displayed, in bold.

“I… I think so~?” In all honesty, Hisoka wasn’t quite sure if she would help him, but there wasn’t exactly a plethora of choices, either. “I guess I’ll call, and tell her I’m dying or something so that she can come over.”

Gon nodded, excitement returning. “Who is she?”

Hisoka smiled in uncertainty. “A friend? Or… More like a companion who’s been forced to tolerate me.”

“Like coworkers?”

“Yeah, exactly.” He dialed up Machi’s number.

There was a pause in the room, where the phone began to ring. Gon watched impatiently, legs still swinging. The second ring passed. Hisoka sighed. After the third ring, the jester got a little worried. He imagined that Machi was staring at the screen, wondering whether or not she should answer. Four rings passed. Then five. Then-

 _“It’s not August yet. Why are you calling,”_ her frosty voice stated, over the static of the phone call. Hisoka smiled.

“Machi? Can you help me with something?”

_“Is there money involved?”_

He frowned. “... You know I’m broke. But I really do need your help.”

He heard Machi suck her teeth over the receiver. _“I need to do something for you for free? Fuck that.”_

The jester sighed. “Machi. Please? It’s… It’s an emergency.”

There was silence over the phone. He could imagine Machi’s irritated contemplation. For a solid minute, Hisoka could only hear her steady breathing. Then, she said, _“Alright, what do you want. I’ll decide whether I want to show up or not.”_

Hisoka threw a smile at Gon. The boy grinned back.

“Well, I went back to my room in Heaven’s Arena but there was some guy that has a problem with me,” Machi laughed at that, “and he kind of caught me off guard and tore off my leg.” Gon covered his face, desperately trying not to laugh.

_“What?! What the fuck?”_

“Yeah, I can’t walk. I… I think I’m dying.” Hisoka said it in a small voice, not out of fear, but because there was no other way to deliver such a blatant lie without bursting into laughter.

_“Holy fucking shit, Hisoka! You idiot! You fucking nutjob! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”_

The jester coughed. “Yeah. So, please come over. I’m on floor 224, suite 03, by the way. Thanks.”

Machi uttered a very loud _“Jesus fucking Christ”_ and hung up.

Hisoka dropped the phone on the bed. He turned back to Gon, sitting across from him. They looked at each other, all wide grins and playful eyes, and collapsed into a fit of laughter.

* * *

 

Fortunately for them, Machi was in a nearby country. She had immediately booked a flight, landed in 3 hours, and rushed, at four in the morning, to Heaven’s Arena.

When the woman finally reached his room, she’d thrown open the door with a blaze of fury and desperation. Gon and Hisoka turned to look at her. They were playing cards.

“Hisoka!” Machi yelled, drenched in sweat. She’d ran the whole way.

“What the fuck are you doing, playing cards when your le…” she paused, seeing the spotless, intact nature of both of his legs. _Ah, shit,_ Hisoka thought, quietly. “Hi, Machi~. It was nice of you to show up.” He gave her a consolation smile.

Machi paused, eyes doing a once-over on the situation in front of her. It became very clear that there was nothing wrong with Hisoka at all.

She took a deep breath, and said, “ _What is this._ Did you not say that someone tore off your leg?”

“Well, you see…”

“Did you _not_ say that you were dying?”

“That’s the thing... I, I can explain,” the jester began, holding up his hands.

“Hisoka,” Machi growled, “It is four in the fucking morning.”

She stalked over to him like a terrible, predatory beast. “It is four in the morning, and I ran from the airport just to get here as fast as I could.”

The jester nodded, and said, “Uh, I’m glad? But the thing is, I actually called to-”

Machi interrupted him. “No. Shut the hell up. I don’t want to hear it. Hisoka, I hope you know that I spent 2,000 jenny on the flight, you god damned cunt. I threatened security just so I could take my needles with me, so that I could save your pathetic, miserable ass, which you said was dying. I actually felt bad for you! I thought you were lying on the floor, in agony, but no, you’re fucking playing cards with this…” she waved a hand at Gon, who was staring at her with wide eyes. “This _kid,_ god knows why you have a kid in your room at four AM, and you _lied_ to me.” Machi was towering over him. From this angle, the shadows under her eyes were accentuated.

“How the hell are you going to explain this, you shitsack? Because I’m about to tear off your fucking legs.”

Hisoka looked at her with a nervous smile.

From the side, Gon cleared his throat, and put away the cards.

He turned and got off the bed. Gon kneeled, face down low, in the woman’s direction. “I know we’ve never met before, Machi! But I am asking you from the bottom of my heart to give Hisoka a chance. We really, _really_ need your help.”

Machi narrowed her eyes. “And who the hell are you?”

Gon got up, smiling. He dusted off his pants. “I’m Gon!” He introduced himself simply. “I’m Hisoka’s friend.”

The jester blinked at the statement. He felt a small smile curve onto his lips.

Machi scoffed loudly. “Hisoka? Friends? Oh boy.” She wanted to deny it, but the kid had said it quite earnestly. The omega had to admit that her curiosity had been piqued. “You guys better have a damn good reason for all of this. I spent time, money, and energy getting here.”

“I’ll pay you back!” Gon began. “But either way, we’re kind of in a complicated situation…” He sat back on the bed, preparing himself for a long explanation.

“So, Hisoka just asked out this omega, except he’s never actually dated anyone, and he doesn’t know how to treat him, or what to do on the date. We’ve been stuck because we’re both alphas, so we don’t know how this omega is feeling… but Hisoka really needs to mate him, because this guy is my best friend’s older brother, and if Hisoka can’t change his mind, well… terrible things are going to happen to me and my best friend. So we really need your advice!”

Machi stood there for a solid minute, absorbing all of the information she was just given. She massaged her forehead tiredly.

They watched her with a nervous air.

“Is this that Zoldyck assassin, again?” She sighed. “And I thought this was going to be serious.”

“It is serious,” Hisoka said, quietly.

Machi looked at him carefully.

“It is,” he reaffirmed.

She raised a skeptical brow at him. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t correlate with the whole ‘someone chopped my leg off and I’m dying’ scenario.” Ah, she was still angry about that.

Hisoka sighed. “Ok, admittedly, no, but…”

The jester had a thoughtful expression that he hardly ever wore. He began to speak, in as careful terms as he could. “I asked him out today, and at first, he rejected me.” Machi smirked at the words. Hisoka pouted at her, but continued anyway. “I don’t know if it was just because I was nervous, or because I’d never done this kind of thing before, but…” He fell silent.

Gon and Machi both turned to him, waiting.

Hisoka’s eyes were downcast. “It… It felt like my world was ending.”

He took on an expression of mild embarrassment. “Eh, sounds stupid when I say it out loud. Never mind.” He laughed. There was no way to explain it without sounding utterly ridiculous.

How could he admit something like this? The only thing Hisoka could think of to verbally express the feeling was, _I finally understand why there are people who don’t have any will to live._

And that was just melodramatic and unbelievable. Machi would laugh in his face. She probably already was. He looked up at her, and saw that…

Machi’s expression had become unexpectedly soft. Hisoka blinked at her in surprise.

“Is that so,” she murmured, more to herself. The woman seemed to have an internal battle, reflecting on the situation at hand. She looked at Hisoka, and something like understanding washed over her face. Machi sighed, shutting her eyes.

“Alright, alright. Do you have coffee in your kitchen?” Hisoka nodded.

“Great. I’m getting a cup of coffee, and then we’re going to settle down, and you’re going to tell me absolutely everything there is to know. If I’m here to help you, I won't be half-assed about it.”

Gon and Hisoka shared yet another grin.

* * *

 

It was 6 in the morning. The sun began to rise, letting a soft, pink glow drift into the room.

It was beaming directly into Machi’s tired, miserable eyes.

For the last two hours, Gon and Hisoka had persistently detailed every single piece of information there was to be had about Illumi Zoldyck, to the point that Machi figured she could probably write a solid biography on the man.

“Ok,” she said. “So, we just have to figure out how to charm this nutjob.”

The other two nodded at her.

“Well. I can tell you right now that he sounds like he needs security the most. He’s one of those omegas who absolutely have to feel assured by their partner. So Gon is right about one aspect of dating,” she’d found out about the boy’s wildly successful dating career, “and it’s that you’re going to have to make this guy feel really fucking special.”

Hisoka considered the thought. “Ok. So, where do I start with that?”

Machi looked at him blearily. “Hisoka, what are you wearing for the date?”

The jester paused in thought. That matter hadn’t even crossed his mind. In fact, it was on the bottom of the long list of his worries.

“Uh...I guess,” he waved vaguely to his wardrobe.

Machi sighed heavily.

“Oh, no. No. You can’t go out with someone wearing that clown shit,” Hisoka frowned, deeply insulted, but she continued anyway, “You need some new clothes. Something that won’t humiliate this guy.”

“Well, what _else_ can I wear?” The jester snapped, with a tinge of annoyance. He happened to stand by the belief that his fashion sense was impeccable.

The woman glared at him. “You don’t get it, do you. You need to show him how much you love him, and part of it is picking out something that shows that you wanted him to look at you differently. And this isn’t just about an outfit. If you were picking flowers, you’d have to pick something meaningful to him. If you were picking a restaurant, you’d have to go somewhere worthy of his time, and mindful to his tastes. Hisoka, if you’re trying to prove to an omega that you love him, and that he should love you, you have to treat each decision like your life is on the line. Scent marking is _permanent,_ after all.”

The two looked at her silently. Machi nodded at herself, knowing she was right. She continued. “Illumi sounds like he needs to be wooed from beginning to end, and if you don’t approach each decision you make very carefully, he’ll probably just run away like he did all of those other times.” She gave the jester a knowing look.

“Put it this way, Hisoka. Illumi reacts so strongly against you because you’re careless towards him. You’re careless because you’re an idiot.” The man pouted at this. “However, idiots can learn. So, show him you’ve learned how to be careful.”

The jester nodded in response, promising to himself that he would. Gon looked at Machi with open admiration. “You’re really good at this,” the boy remarked.

“Of course. I know all of the subtleties of an omega’s heart, even the crazy ones like Illumi.” She smirked proudly at herself, even through her exhausted haze.

“But, I really need a nap. We can talk more a few hours from now. I’m going to text Pakunoda now, because she’s the champion of picking out classy, well-tailored, and alluring outfits. She can help us out with step one, ok?”

They agreed to sleep, and convene later in the day to achieve this newfound goal.

* * *

 

Machi and Gon were waiting outside of an absurdly fancy suit shop.

Pakunoda had walked in, with a very well groomed Hisoka by her side, but the other two just didn’t make the “classy” cut. Machi wasn’t in the mood to have people belligerently staring at her, so she opted to sit at a nearby bench instead.

Gon, also disinterested in the contents of the store, decided to wait with her.

It was there that the woman decided to strike up a particular conversation with him.

“Gon,” she’d said, staring off-handedly at nearby pedestrians. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Gon looked up at her curiously. “Yeah?”

She returned his gaze. Machi picked her next words carefully. “Have you ever thought about why there are so many more betas in this world, than alphas and omegas?”

The boy frowned softly. After a moment of silence, he admitted that it hadn’t really entered his mind.

Machi nodded. “Of course. Well, it’s not that much of a mystery.” Here, she looked at him meaningfully.

“Gon, being an alpha or an omega is painful. For us, mating is permanent, but feelings aren’t. We place a strong bet on our biologies, and hope for the best.”

Machi’s face was stern. It reminded Gon of Aunt Mito, when she was angry at him and needed to teach him a valuable lesson. “There is an endless list of alphas and omegas who have killed themselves when their relationships with their mate fell apart. Even being rejected by someone you love dearly can hurt you.”

Gon swallowed thickly, realizing the direction of this conversation.

“Frankly, I don’t think you know what you asked of Hisoka. You told him to do something that could potentially lead to him killing himself, especially considering how mentally unstable Illumi is. And you essentially did this to save yourself, and your friend.”

The boy assumed an expression of very real, and very painful guilt.

“Gon, what you did was incredibly selfish. I’m talking really fucking selfish. Now, I’m not exactly chummy with that idiot, but he doesn’t deserve that kind of miserable death. You’re still young, so maybe you don’t know, but losing someone you love so deeply is like losing your purpose. It’s the most painful feeling.”

Machi’s expression had a soft ache to it. Gon spoke up, albeit quietly, “Have you… have you ever felt that?”

The woman shut her eyes. “Yes, I have. I was rejected once.” Gon sucked in a breath. “How did you…”

“It wasn’t because he didn’t love me. It’s just that he has a greater cause, and it’s worth more than anything and everything else. It’s worth more to him than his own life.”

“But, it still hurts, doesn’t it?”

Machi chuckled. “Sometimes it used to sting, but not anymore. I’ve decided to help him in his cause. With a guy like that, it’s the best way to show my love.”

Gon didn’t seem pleased with her answer. _That’s not enough,_ his eyes seemed to say.

The woman continued, for his sake. “Besides, I’ve never actually mated him, so I could very well find someone else. I can still beat my biology.”

The boy smiled.

“I’m glad,” he murmured, voice filled with relief. “I believe in you!”

Machi laughed at his earnest response.

“You’re a good kid, Gon. This is why I’m talking to you.” She turned to face the boy, and he quickly mirrored her. “I’m sure you didn’t know what the consequences for Hisoka could have been, so you hadn’t thought of it. But if he’s really a friend to you, you absolutely cannot put his life on the line like that again. I don’t care how dire the situation gets, you must not use his feelings to fulfill your own needs.”

Gon nodded. His eyes were burning in determination. “I promise I won’t,” he said, severely. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so pleased with this chapter, and so excited for the next chapter. I've spent the last few chapters building up Gon to be this miracle kid, but I really wanted to bring him back down to his major weakness. He's just so one track minded, and he often only sees the end result. Togashi has already written out this premise, but I guess I just wanted to honor the man yet again. Not that writing fanfiction is particularly honorable. Lol. ;) also, I just love that I've found a way to make Machi sympathise with Hisoka's miserable ass.


	12. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A late night conversation.

There was something fortunate about Pakunoda’s ability to look into people’s memories.

She hadn’t had to sit through a two hour lecture on Hisoka and Illumi’s budding relationship, for one. The jester was nervous, at first- He didn’t want her to discover how fake his spider tattoo was, after all. However, it seemed that the woman hadn’t accessed those memories, but she’d seen and felt plenty of his sentimental scenes involving the assassin.

It’d been easier than he thought. Pakunoda had merely held his hand, and said the word, “Illumi.”

His brain had flooded with memory after memory. From the smallest glances, to the long hours spent with the assassin, from each passing hello, to the moments Illumi had laughed, smiled, yelled, sighed...

Pakunoda had been touched.

“Hisoka,” she’d said. “Who knew you could be so soft at heart? How adorable.”

He was quite embarrassed.

Either way, the woman had become very motivated to make his first date a successful one. “You’ll never get rejected by him again,” she promised. The man sure hoped that was the case. Rejection fucking _sucked._

Pakunoda had a salesclerk aiding her in color choices. She gave him demands, and he came back with a myriad of options. It was dizzying, frankly. Hisoka had seen the inside of the fitting room many, many times.

“Golds, deep reds, maybe even some soft velvet colors will suit you. I don’t want to get you something too stuffy, because you shouldn’t go overboard on the first date.” Pakunoda shuffled through the varying samples of material. The jester looked over her shoulder.

“The goal is something loose, inviting, and gentle to the touch.”

She held out a sample cloth. He handled it delicately. It was some sort of genuine leather, and the texture felt smooth under his fingers. The price for clothing made from these materials was unbelievably exorbitant, but the woman insisted that this place had good sales.

More likely, she was friends with the owner, or something.

Pakunoda smiled. “You get it? This one is good for gloves, actually...”

“I suppose...”

“And none of those shoes you have are going to work, either. Why do you wear heels all the time, anyway? They don’t pair well with most of your outfits.”

Hisoka briefly explained to her.

“Oh,” Pakunoda replied. “I… I didn’t know. That’s very interesting, actually.”

Her eyes glossed over. She was thinking about something.

* * *

 

An hour had passed by the time Hisoka and Pakunoda left the suit shop.

That was fairly good timing, considering the fact that the woman often spent up to 3 hours in one store alone. Machi and Gon had conversed over many trivial matters, and Gon outlined all of his adventures, starting from the hunter exam. The boy had just explicated his newfound experiences with nen, and he’d been asking Machi about how her limb-repairs worked.

“We’re done here,” Pakunoda announced, carrying four bags. They rustled in her arms as she walked. Hisoka was behind her, holding onto only one bag.

Machi whistled. “What, did you buy clothes for his next 10 dates?”

Pakunoda gasped. “Shit, I could have done that! But, no,” she looked away, bashfully, “These are for me. I get great deals from this store, so I just can’t help myself.” There was always a next time.

Gon bounded up, peeking into Hisoka’s bag. “What’d you get?” He asked, already reaching in to pull out a shoebox. “Gon~,” the jester whined. “I’m putting it all on later. Don’t you want to wait and see?”

The boy stuck out his tongue. “No. I wanna see now.” He opened the box, and saw a pair of black leather shoes. Gon held them out, examining one. “You got women’s shoes?” He asked, pointing at the heels.

Pakunoda laughed. “You’re so cute, Gon.”

The boy didn’t know, but she’d seen plenty of him through Hisoka’s memories. The woman had found his young, indomitable spirit endearing. “Those are for men, actually. Which reminds me, there’s something I want to talk to you guys about. I think I have a good idea for Hisoka’s date.”

* * *

 

Killua was pacing back and forth in Wing’s apartment.

Just the other night, he’d gotten away from his older brother’s grasp, only to have Gon run back up to floor 224. Wing had agreed to let the young Zoldyck stay over in the meantime, but Killua was starting to get anxious because Gon hardly responded to him.

Finally, at 3 in the afternoon, Gon called.

 _“Hi, Killua!”_ The green-haired boy said, as cheerful as though nothing had passed between them.

“Gon! Where _were_ you?! What happened?! I was so worried, you idiot!” Killua tried not to yell, but it came out like that anyway.

Who could blame him? All his friend had said was _‘I’m going to Hisoka’s room. I’ll let you know when I’m heading back to Wing-san’s place.’_

And then he’d dropped off the earth for hours. Killua could make nothing of the situation at hand.

_“I was shopping with Hisoka and his friends for clothes! His friends are actually really cool, there’s one lady named Pakunoda and she’s really nice, she treated me to ice cream, and then there’s Machi, she seems scary at first but actually she’s super smart and thoughtful and we got really expensive shoes for Hisoka, did you know that shoes can go fo-”_

Ok. So Gon had disappeared to go on the gayest outing ever, with Hisoka and his girlfriends.

Killua supposed it was better than the alternative, which was death.

He cleared his throat, and interrupted his rambling friend. “Ok, you can tell me this later. Are you coming to Wing’s place? He said I could stay over for a while, until all of this blows over. You’ll stay with me, right?”

_“Of course!”_

Thank goodness. For a hot second, Killua thought he was going to be replaced by a flaming gay murder clown. He’d just pack his bags and go home, if that was the case.

 _“I guess I can head over and drop off my stuff first. I miss you, so we can hang out together now.”_ Killua smiled. _“But I have to get more clothes from Heaven’s Arena tomorrow. I can pick up your things too, if you want. See you soon?”_

“Yeah,” the white-haired boy affirmed, softly. “Hurry up and get over here. We’re all waiting for you.”

Gon said he’d be right over, and hung up the phone. Killua sighed.

“He finally called, huh?” Wing asked, smiling in amusement. He’d been sitting on the couch, casually listening to the conversation over a cup of tea. Zushi sat next to him, sipping on a carton of apple juice. “Gon is so one-track minded,” the boy said, through the sippy-straw. “He can’t do too many things at once.”

Killua chuckled. “Yeah, he can be pretty stupid, but he’s still my best friend.”

* * *

 

Gon spent the night telling his best friend absolutely everything that had transpired.

They were supposed to be sleeping, but they both found that neither could be bothered to, so they stayed up and talked until the night had reached its darkest hours.

It was 2 in the morning, when the boy admitted what Machi had said to him. Gon spoke quietly, as though he was still thinking to himself rather than speaking out loud.

“I felt awful. It wasn’t right, even if Hisoka does like Illumi. I just… I was so certain of their natures, I was sure that everything would be fine. You know, they can’t get enough of eachother, even if Illumi’s fighting it tooth and nail.”

“Alright, you don’t have to _describe_ it.” Killua had a face of mild disgust.

Gon snorted. “Sorry, I’ve been talking about this all day. We even have a plan for Hisoka’s date and everything, your brother’s gonna melt in his arms.” He smiled with excitement. Killua shut his eyes tiredly, desperately wanting to escape his own mental imagery.

“Either way… I don’t want to focus on getting Hisoka to mate him anymore. It’s not fair to ask him to do that, so this time, I’m going to support him the whole way through, even if it takes forever for them to get together…” Gon sighed, gripping his forehead. “But there’s no way I can think of to get Illumi to stop…”

Two friends were on the line in this matter. He’d tossed and turned restlessly, never quite arriving at a conclusion.  

Killua looked at him with sympathy.

“This is a mess,” the white-haired boy remarked. “If only my brother wasn’t like this. I think his… crush… on Hisoka actually made him worse.”

Gon looked over curiously. “Really? How?”

Killua sighed. “I know my brother. He doesn’t know how to face his own emotions. That was one of his biggest lessons, you know? Shutting off your emotions, especially if you’re an alpha or an omega.”

The green-haired boy shook his head. If there was anything he’d learned, after a childhood spent in the wild… “That’s not possible. So many of his actions are decided by his nature. You can’t control it.” Though Illumi certainly tried.

He turned over to Killua.

“You know, Illumi does it to you, too. I can tell sometimes. I can see it when you want to do something, or you want to say something, but you can’t.” There were moments between Killua’s silence, where Gon knew that some part of him was missing.

“Somehow, just by teaching you for so long, he’s hovering over your decisions like…” Gon bit his lip, trying to find the right description, “...Like a _shadow._ That’s what I hate the most.”

A familiar discomfort twisted in Killua’s gut. He laid there in the dark, wondering why Gon was right.

“I don’t know,” Killua murmured. “Sometimes, I feel it too.” He turned away from the other boy, shutting his eyes. “I don’t know why it’s so hard to change.”

There was a still silence.

Gon stared at Killua’s form, drenched in shadows. There was only a sliver of moonlight that night, and if it wasn’t for the white hair, it would seem like his friend had disappeared.

The boy sighed, getting up. “I can’t sleep,” he muttered. It was impossible. He needed fresh air, a walk, anything, at this point.

Killua turned back to him, sheets rustling.

“Gon? Where are you going?”

The boy shrugged, slipping out of bed. He stumbled around a little, putting on his socks. “I guess I’ll stop by my apartment now. I’ll be back,” Gon tossed a smile over his shoulder. “Don’t wait up.”

Killua looked at him with a touch of worry. “Right now? It’s 3 AM, though. Just wait till the morning.”

Gon shook his head. “I can’t, sitting in one spot is killing me. I’ll be right back!”

He left the house quietly.

* * *

 

Luckily enough, Gon didn’t run into any trouble on the way there.

He’d gathered his trusty fishing rod, his clothes, and some miscellaneous items here and there. Killua had told him to drop by his apartment as well, and nab some snacks from the boy’s extensive stash.

He’d finished packing his bag, and set off to Killua’s room, which was right around the corner. They’d picked the closest rooms they could, though it hardly mattered considering the fact that the boys just held constant sleepovers.

Gon turned the corner, and saw Illumi leaning against Killua’s door.

He felt his breath stutter.

Gon stopped in the middle of the hall. “Why are you here,” he asked.

Illumi turned slowly, taking a long look at the green-haired boy. “Of course, it’s you,” the assassin muttered.

He unfolded his arms, walking forward. Gon watched him warily.

“Tell me,” Illumi began. “Where is Killua?”

“That’s none of your business,” Gon snapped quickly.

The assassin narrowed his eyes, pinning the boy with an irritated glare. “If you haven’t forgotten, I’m his brother.”

“Then Killua can tell you himself, can’t he?”

Illumi became decidedly angry.

It wasn’t a visible anger. In fact, there was no obvious signifier in his face, posture, or even his tone of voice. It was merely his scent that gave him away. “Oh?” He uttered, with just the slightest hint of ridicule. “You can say something so brazen, can you? And Hisoka, asking me out? Is that _your_ business, then?”

Gon swallowed thickly.

Illumi continued. “So it isn’t. And yet, you orchestrated it.” The boy tried to speak but Illumi cut him off, smiling. “No, don’t say a word. You thought I wouldn’t figure it out? Do you honestly believe that you are capable of manipulation? I promise you, however good you think you are, I’m better.”

The boy felt fear churning in his stomach. _I’m not here to argue with him,_ he reminded himself. He imagined Killua, waiting for him in the dark, and it pushed him forward. “Can we do this next time?” Gon suggested. “I’m just picking up stuff for Killua. I hope you enjoy your date next week!” He smiled amicably, trying to walk past the man.

Illumi grabbed him by the neck.

“You can’t run from me,” the assassin hissed. “You can’t control me, either. I’m taking Killua back and there is no way you will be able to stop it.” The assassin smiled mirthlessly, grip tightening.

 _I need to leave,_ Gon thought urgently, rasping helplessly against the man’s hand. He reached up, gripping Illumi’s arm. _I can’t fight him, I can’t let my anger get the best of me. He’s Hisoka’s omega. He’s Killua’s br-_

“You know, your life is in my hands. I could just kill you, and have Killua return with me right now...”

Gon glared openly at him, even through his own harsh gasps. “Y-you… won’t,” he snarled, through his teeth, “You can’t k-kill me, I’m… your only... bargaining chip.” His grip tightened. Bruises were forming.

The assassin scoffed. He let the boy go, seconds before he ran out of air. Gon collapsed to the ground, choking.

“You’re not a bargaining chip,” Illumi stated. “You’re not even worth that much.”

The boy gathered himself, staring up angrily. He’d long forsaken the idea of escape. “I’m worth more to Killua than you are. And you know it,” Gon stated, “Because otherwise, you wouldn’t use me against him.”

A moment passed between them. The sound of the boy’s shuddering breaths filled the silence. For an instance, Gon thought that Illumi would surely kill him.

Instead, the assassin exhaled, and said, “You don’t know Killua the way I do. You don’t know who he actually is, under the facade he puts up to be your friend. What he has with his family is _real.”_

Gon was stunned.

“Is that… really what you believe?” He asked, incredulously. Illumi didn’t answer.

“You’re crazy,” Gon blurted, in complete astonishment. “You’re so crazy! I don’t know what Hisoka sees in you,” The boy admitted, more out of anger than anything else.

“My brother lives in a world that you will never understand. He’s not your friend-”

“Yes, he _is!_ And I’m tired of your fami-”

“He’s not,” Illumi spat. “You’re just a source of fascination. Consider yourself lucky when I take my brother back, because otherwise, he would inevitably kill you.” The assassin’s eyes were cold. “And Killua _will_ return, because in his heart, he loves us. There is nothing more valuable to him than his family.”

Gon knew that he was treading in dangerous waters, but he had already consumed himself in his own fury.  “You… you really think Killua loves you? You think he wants to spend time with you? If that was true, he wouldn’t _be_ here! The truth is, he can’t stand _any of you!”_

Illumi’s aura dropped onto Gon like gravity. He felt his knees buckle, but he fought off the malicious nen with his own. “Stop speaking on matters you don’t know anything of,” the assassin muttered, dangerously. He raised a hand towards the boy, eager to choke him again. Gon was staring into death.

“Fine!” He nodded, a challenge. “Hurt me. Show me I’m right.”

Illumi’s hand stopped, mid air. He couldn’t bring it down.

Gon glared at him, and continued. “And don’t talk to me about facades. What I have with Killua isn’t a facade. Have you ever seen him laugh? Have you ever seen him cry? I’ve only seen him cry once, and it was because of _you!”_

Illumi scoffed at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. We trained him not to cry by the age of 5, even under extreme torture.”

The boy sucked in a deep breath.

It had been unbearable, hearing Killua sob because of the man in front of him. It had been so painful.

“You’re all heartless,” the boy said, shaking his head miserably. “All of you.”

“Don’t even say the word love,” Gon continued, bitterly. “The Zoldycks don’t know how to love. You only know how to torture people, test them, manipulate them, use them, but you don’t know how to love.”

Illumi stared at him in silence.

His next words were a whisper. “What would you know,” the assassin murmured. “You don’t know how merciful I am to Killua. Do you think I want to torture him? I _do_ this for him. I do this, so that he can become strong. Is that not love?”

Gon stared blankly at the man, appalled. “It isn’t!” He cried, in disbelief. “You’re just hurting him for no reason! If this is what happened to you, I’m really sorry, but you’re wrong! Your teachings are going to kill him!”

“Your say doesn’t matter. Are _you_ the one risking your life as one of the world’s greatest assassins? Well, you aren’t, you’re just a mediocrity from some irrelevant island, and you have no idea what assassi-”

“SHUT UP!” The boy yelled, heart pounding in his chest. “Just shut up! Who cares about assassins?! Didn’t you hear what I said? You’re killing him! You’re suppressing his nature, and it’s _going_ to kill him! Why don’t you _get this?!”_ He was on the verge of crying out of sheer frustration. Talking to Illumi was like talking to a wall. There was no reasoning with him, and arguments circled endlessly. The man was simply too deep in his own denial.

“Don’t you understand that he wasn’t meant to think like you? He’s being stifled! He’s an alpha, but he’s too scared to even face you, and you want him to be the leader of your stupid business?! You won’t let him be himself!”

“His secondary gender doesn’t _matter!”_ Illumi yelled back, for the first time. “He’s the heir of the Zoldyck family! This is who he was _meant_ to be!”

“No! It isn’t! And you have no right to decide that!”

“Yes, I DO!”

“NO, YOU _DON’T!”_ Gon roared back, at the top of his lungs. It echoed down the halls.

He exhaled, breathing heavily. There was a long silence, where they looked at each other, both on the precipice of murdering the other.

Finally, the boy muttered, “You don’t get to control him. Not when you can’t even control yourself.”

Illumi retorted very quickly. “I can control myself. I’m not an animal like you.”

Gon scoffed loudly at him. “You can’t do anything about your emotions! You’d rather kill me than face yourself.”

The assassin glared at him in cold fury.

The boy continued. “Don’t even bother denying it, you hypocrite. You can’t escape the fact that you’re an omega.” The sooner Illumi understood that, the easier it would be for him to let go of Killua.

“Being an omega is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter what I was born as, I don’t act on it, and I do my j-”

“Aren’t you dating Hisoka?”

Illumi fell silent.

“And you don’t know where Killua is, now. So I guess being an omega matters.”

The assassin spoke venomously. “Hisoka means _nothing_ to me! I could kill him myself! That was just a trifle, a passing feeling-”

 _Ridiculous,_ Gon thought. _You think you can kill him, when you can’t even say no to him?_ The boy laughed at this point. “Well, why don’t you stop talking, and _do_ it then?”

The air fell still.

Gon swallowed thickly, realizing the weight of his words. The assassin watched as the boy’s expression swam with sudden regret. He smiled.

“...Is that a contract?” Illumi asked, softly.

“N-”

“I have a proposition, Gon. How about it?”

“You _can’t_ do it,” the boy insisted, desperately, “You can’t. You’ll die, too! There’s no-”

“Hisoka’s life, for my younger brother.”

Gon fell silent.

“I suppose I’ll just have to show you how wrong you are. I’ll kill him this Saturday.” Illumi walked off, and left him standing there. The assassin turned the corner, vanishing completely.

The boy stared at the space where the man had been. It had hardly been a day, and he’d already broken his promise to Machi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall: this is so cute!! i wonder how illumi is preparing for the first date! 
> 
> me, fundamentally chaotic evil: lmao


	13. The Sea and the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sunset becomes Illumi's favorite color.

Gon had tried to call Hisoka. The very next day, he’d stared at his phone lying near the bed, dialed the jester’s number, and let it ring until it reached the man’s voicemail. He did this again, five minutes later, and the result was the same.

“What’s wrong?” Killua asked, lazily reading a comic. He glanced up from the pages. “Who are you trying to call?”

Gon couldn’t answer. He was dying to explain himself to someone, but he didn’t have the heart to tell his best friend that Illumi might come knocking on their door, covered in Hisoka’s blood.

So he decided to say nothing.

For an hour, Gon thought about the possible consequences of telling the man. Would it make the situation better, or worse? This was, after all, Hisoka’s first (and possibly his last) shot with the assassin.

And yet, Gon had only challenged Illumi because it was a matter he was certain about. The man might speak of it, but it wasn’t something he could deliver. He couldn’t actually kill Hisoka, and maybe coming face to face with that reality would do him some good.

At least, the boy prayed that would be the case.

His phone rang. Gon picked it up anxiously, glancing at the screen. _Hisoka,_ it displayed in bold. Thank goodness, Illumi hadn’t decided to kill him early or something.

_“Gon~? What’s up?”_

“H-Hisoka,” Gon began nervously. Killua looked over at him with scrutinizing eyes. “Not much! I was just gonna ask where you were, but it’s cool now.” He’d decided to wait until Sunday, after all.

 _“Oh, that’s good. I’m actually working right now, because I need money for this date.”_ Hisoka was still broke, and now he owed Pakunoda for the clothes.

“Working?”

_“Yeah, I just picked up some job for blacklist hunters.”_

“You’re a blacklist hunter?” Gon realized how strange that was. In the process of befriending Hisoka, he’d forgotten that the man was more likely to have a bounty on his head than hunt down the bounties.

_“Well~... No, I’m just good at finding people and fighting them. It’s a transferable skill.”_

“Ah. Ok. Good luck, then!” Gon quipped, with a cheer he didn’t feel. Hisoka thanked him, and the conversation ended there. He sighed and put his phone on the nightstand. Killua followed, sliding the book away. “Gon? Are you worried about something?”

“No,” Gon answered, quickly.

 _Too quickly,_ he thought to himself. Killua would see through it instantly.

The boy narrowed his eyes, but Gon merely looked away.

* * *

 

Time passed, until Illumi was staring at the alarm clock on his nightstand and it read 10:00 AM, on a Saturday morning.

Hisoka had texted him the night before, saying he would pick him up outside of his apartment. The clock was inching towards that time.

For days, Illumi had thought long and hard about when to kill the man. He’d wondered where the moment of opportunity would arise. Some part of him wanted to catch Hisoka off guard completely, right at the moment in which the man knocked on his door. Another told him to wait until the very end, when Hisoka turned to leave.

Would it matter? Was there a single moment in the day, where the jester would be remotely prepared for an assassination attempt?

The question of how was just as prevalent. There was a plethora of options. Illumi could poison him, as there would certainly be chances to tamper with his food sources. Perhaps he could bring a few spare needles, and tuck them away on his person.

Would he even need a weapon? A single kiss could disarm Hisoka. The rest could be achieved with his own hands.

Perhaps that was best, then. It would be a bloodbath, but there would be no chance of the fool prematurely realizing Illumi’s true intentions at all. Such a death would require isolation.

_Then it is ideal to strike just as he comes through the door._

Illumi stared warily at the entrance to his apartment. He played the scenario in his head, with the clown arriving for their date, and him striking the man down almost instantaneously after saying hello. Then, it would be a small matter of cleaning up and clearing any evidence. Illumi would find Killua and take him home.

The assassin built a calm resolve, and waited.

A few minutes later, he heard a knock on his door.

He got up, quelling any part of him that hesitated. Illumi unlocked the door, sliding it open, and he saw… “Peonies?”

A bouquet. They were a deep purple, with red undertones. “Good morning,” Hisoka greeted, holding out the flowers.

The assassin couldn’t help but stare. “Good… morning,” he replied, after a moment. “You look different.” The jester’s hair was down, bangs hanging delicately around his face. His clothing was entirely unlike the usual clown garb. In fact, it was normal. He’d had donned a thin, burgundy turtleneck, slim dress pants, and a well tailored overcoat. For once in his life, the man looked elegant.

“So do you,” Hisoka remarked, smiling. Illumi looked down at himself. Black clothes, head to toe. Inconspicuous, and easy to hide blood splatter. “Why all black, though?”

“Oh,” Illumi began, searching for a lie. “I… wasn’t sure where you were going to take me. I tried to dress to fit in anywhere.” Hisoka nodded in response, accepting the answer without a second thought. He held out the peonies once more. “Aren’t you going to take them?”

The assassin reached out, handling the bouquet. There wasn’t a single withering flower. Each one was carefully chosen. “Why peonies?” He asked, turning the bouquet in his hands. There was something about the deep shades of red and purple that reminded him of Hisoka’s hair, and the golden yellow center that left him reflecting on the man’s eyes.

“Set them down, and I’ll tell you,” Hisoka replied.

Illumi turned into his apartment, searching for a bowl and some water that he’d be able to fit the flowers in. After a minute of scrambling, he re-emerged at his door. Hisoka watched him mirthfully, and held out a hand.

Illumi stared at the proffered hand. “Come on, Illumi. It is a date, after all~,” the jester remarked playfully.

The assassin hesitantly reached out, and soon they were walking side by side. _Heels,_ Illumi thought suddenly. He heard them clicking away at the tiles. _I suppose he couldn’t help himself on that matter._

“You told me once about your mother’s garden,” Hisoka explained. “You said she loved growing asiatic plants, and that one of her favorites to grow were peonies.”

It took a moment of thought. “Yes,” Illumi said, remembering. “When they’re in season, she has the servants put them in vases all over the house.” He’d found them hauntingly beautiful. Of all the flowers his mother grew, they died most quickly. Thus, she celebrated their growth while it lasted.

The jester smiled. “You’ve told me. I wanted to give you something a little more unique than roses, so I decided to give you flowers you were more familiar with. And I _do_ believe you’ve said they were your favorite.”

This had been a conversation that happened weeks before. It had been in passing, one of those topics that were somehow raised with no real reason or significance. Illumi himself couldn’t even recall it.

“You remembered?” He asked, feeling a twinge in his chest.

“Of course.”

* * *

 

By the time they had settled down into a restaurant, Illumi realized that he’d already missed his first opportunity.

He cursed at himself. It had never been the case that the assassin had been distracted by a bundle of flowers, or nice clothes. Now that they were in a restaurant, Illumi would have to act much more quietly. And to do that, he would need to know their plans.

“Hisoka?” He asked, looking up from his lunch. The man had picked a relatively popular hang out with French influences. Another one of Illumi’s personal favorites. It was a strange feeling, the feeling of being catered to.

“Yes?”

Illumi picked at his dish. “What are we doing today?” He hoped it wasn’t a suspicious question to ask. Hisoka paused, a contemplative expression on his face. “Well…” the jester began. “Illumi, do you know how to dance?”

“No.”

Hisoka grinned happily. “Ah~, I’m glad. That means that today I’ll be teaching you.”

“We’re… dancing?” Illumi asked, hesitantly. Dancing was generally seen as romantic, but between an alpha and omega, it was an entirely intimate experience. After all, the scent glands in their wrists and neck would be in contact with each other.

“Yes, that was the plan. Before I focused on fighting, I actually loved to dance.”

Illumi had never known. “You did? You don’t mention it.”

Hisoka nodded in affirmation. “I stopped dancing because it’s too predictable. That, and I never found a good partner… But I’m hoping that will change today.” He gave the assassin a longing glance. Against his own will, Illumi felt his cheeks turn red.

 _I have to kill this man,_ the assassin duly reminded himself.

“Where are we going to dance?” Illumi asked, after subduing his own reactions.

“Well, after lunch, we’re going to a record shop. I plan on buying a record player, and after that, it’s a matter of finding the songs that you like. As to where… well, that’s a surprise.”

* * *

 

They’d reached the record shop. It was a quiet, dusty one, tucked into one of the corners of the city.

“What genre of music do you like?” The jester asked, looking around at the myriad of labels. The section of classical options was a steep one. Beyond that was a long list of old-time rock, a scattered section of metal, some jazz, blues, international genres… Illumi didn’t miss the way Hisoka’s eyes lingered on the Latin section.

“I tend to enjoy classical. My mother loves western culture as well, and she plays a lot of classical composers around the house. Do you like Latin music?”

The jester smiled. “You caught me, hmm?” He chuckled, and let himself flip through the records like he was looking through fond memories. “I do, in fact. It’s something about Spanish guitars... I used to dance to it all the time, you know? Salsa is very passionate.”

Ah, of course. Salsa. No wonder Hisoka was always striking a pose.

“You can pick a few,” the alpha said, drifting along classic tunes, glancing at an album here and there. “It’s on me.”

Illumi settled into the classical corner, scouting for composers that he recognized. He picked album after album, garnering a myriad of choices. He’d had no idea if these were appropriate for dancing, but he liked them.

When the assassin was done, his hands were full with Bach, Tchaikovsky, Shostakovich, Mozart, Vivaldi, Berlioz, Beethoven, and many, many more. From the Baroque period to modern times, Illumi had picked out every favorite he’d had in the store. He hadn’t realized there were so many pieces he enjoyed. If he thought long enough, there would be even more. As it was, however, 15 vinyls seemed fair.

“Is this alright?” The assassin asked, showing Hisoka his new collection. The jester looked at the pile with wide eyes.

Was it too much, after all? Perhaps Hisoka had a budget. _What? No, he doesn’t. Dead men don’t have anything. Hisoka’s going to d-_

“Yeah, that’s fine. But wow, you picked a lot more than I was expecting.” Illumi sucked in a breath, snapping out of his own thoughts. _I’m losing focus,_ he panicked. _This interaction isn’t real. This is a facade._

 _“Why don’t you stop talking, and_ do _it then?”_

The assassin felt a pain trickle into the very forefront of his brain. It was the pain of his mind splitting in half. _Today doesn’t matter,_ he thought, fervently.

_None of this matters. His interests, his plans, these songs, none of them matter._

“Are you alright?” The jester asked, carefully laying a hand over Illumi’s own. The man nodded quietly in response. “It’s nothing, just…” he held out the vinyls, searching for any distraction. “Do you want to look?”

Hisoka took the albums out of his hands, glancing through them curiously. “How interesting,” he remarked, in passing. “I don’t recognize most of these people...but the ones I do know are very emotional composers.”

The assassin reviewed his own list, realizing that each selection was rather dramatic in its own way. If not, they were plunged in melancholy, or floating in bright, melodic tunes. It was an interesting revelation.

“Well~, I suppose we could waltz to some of these. Not the most exciting thing, but it’s a good dance to begin with.” Hisoka turned back to his favored section, picking out a single record from the Latin collection. “One of my favorites,” he admitted, when Illumi looked over at him. “I’ll get these, and the record player, and we’re done here.”

* * *

 

“So, where are we going?” Illumi asked, after a while spent walking. They were once again hand in hand, with Hisoka carrying his new portable record player, and Illumi carrying 16 vinyls.

The jester gave him a coy smile. “I told you. It’s a surprise.”

The assassin looked around. As their walk progressed, civilization began to disappear. Hisoka was taking him somewhere isolated. “No one’s around,” he stated, looking at the jester curiously.

They were reaching the very edges of the city, towards a bordering river. From here on, it was warehouse after warehouse, with scattered ports and abandoned buildings. If there was any moment in which he could kill Hisoka, it would be right now.

“I don’t want anyone around for this. It’ll just be us.”

They continued their walk in silence. Illumi stared at the man, perplexed, and decided that waiting a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there. I can see it now,” Hisoka assured him, looking forward. It was getting late. The sun would soon set.

Illumi looked around, seeing only nondescript buildings. His confusion grew.

“Here we are! The most beautiful place in town.”

Hisoka had taken him to an abandoned building. It was entirely unremarkable; decrepit even. Illumi blinked, just to make sure they were looking at the same thing.

“What?”

The jester laughed. “Follow me,” he said in response.

They climbed up the stairs, avoiding all the areas of the building that looked like it was falling apart. Finally, after a trek, the two reached the roof. Illumi looked around, expecting something, anything, but the roof was merely a blank slab, just like the rest of the architecture. The building overlooked the river, all grey and dark blue.

“...Are you messing with me?” He asked, finally.

Hisoka merely chuckled again. “Just a minute,” he said, opening up his latest purchase. He turned to prop the record player nearby, and began looking through the vinyls. The jester finally settled on Mozart, simply because that was one of the few recognizable composers. He placed the record in, lifting up the needle and plopping it in place. Hisoka pressed play.

A light note descended upon them, like a breeze emerging in the spring.

The jester held out a hand. “Look,” he said, motioning to the skies.

The sun was setting.

It sank down, directly behind the tallest building in the skyline: Heaven’s Arena. Illumi watched it disappear behind the top floors, bathing the entire city in a rich gold. The shadow of the skyscraper stretched out, reaching infinitely into space, until Illumi was sure that they would be covered. The assassin followed the deep black line that the building drew, watching as it came to an end right at his feet. They were situated at the very precipice of Heaven’s Arena’s shadow.

The top floor, Illumi remembered, staring down in wonder. The floor that people fought and died for, the floor in which the greatest fighters of this world battled, in the name of glory, and only glory. Winners of Battle Olympia described the top floor as the most splendid view they’d seen in their lives. And here he was, his own silhouette lingering just a few feet above it.

Illumi realized then, that their shadows were standing on the top of the world.

His eyes followed to the other side. The river stretched out, shining in the sunset. A sea of pure gold, that bled into the horizon. It seemed to expand without end, yet it was just in his reach. To think, this view had been mundane merely seconds before.

Now, the sight left him in awe.

Illumi turned back. It was as though he was drifting between two worlds, and the only thing keeping him there was Hisoka, and the floating melodies coming from the record player. It was an indescribable feeling.

The jester smiled fondly, bathed in light. He held out a hand. “Would you like to learn the waltz, now?”

With a trembling heart, Illumi took his hand.

* * *

 

They’d danced until the skyscraper’s shadow covered them. Even in the shade, Illumi hadn’t felt cold.

Hisoka was a playful teacher.

He spoke just under the music, right into the assassin’s ear. He loved changing tempos, but Illumi found it easy to follow. They’d heeded the whims of each composer, and the assassin let the jester hold him close.

Illumi discovered that he loved the waltz. He said nothing on the matter.

But it was when the jester put his own record on, that Illumi completely lost himself. He knew then, just how much Hisoka adored dancing. He could smell the alpha’s excitement, feel it in the way the man held him and moved him effortlessly, like a true lead. Hisoka had an expression of unadulterated joy.

Illumi couldn’t look at his eyes for long. They were simply too bright, so he’d tucked his head in Hisoka’s shoulder, letting the alpha spin them around in circles until stars shone in the sky.

When night had fully descended upon them, they decided to turn off the record player once and for all. “We should probably head home,” Hisoka suggested, with an affectionate smile. Illumi nodded, still a little breathless.

So they decided to walk, hand in hand.

It had taken about an hour, but the couple had eventually reached Heaven’s Arena. It had been a slow pace. Silence settled over the two like a blanket.

They entered the lobby, hardly glancing at the clerks who were clearly ogling them. Hisoka entered the elevator, hitting the button for floor 218. Illumi looked down. Their hands were still intertwined, as they had been for possibly hours. It was a sight that his eyes lingered on.

The elevator dinged, snapping him back to reality. The trip to his front door was a short one.

Too short.

Illumi stared at his apartment door like it was alien to him. He sighed, and unwinded his fingers from the other’s hand. They shared a look, neither quite prepared to face the night alone. Hisoka broke the silence first. “Did you have a good time?”

Illumi hesitated. He realized then, that their date was truly coming to an end.

_Hisoka’s life, for my younger brother._

“I…” His contract was echoing in his head, like a persistent alarm. “Yeah, I did,” the assassin finally admitted.

 _I have to kill him now,_ he thought, morosely.

_This is going to be my last day with Hisoka._

“What, no kiss?” The jester asked, with a playful tone. It was clear he wasn’t expecting a response, or even a reaction to the statement. “I suppose that’s too much to ask. Ah well~, I can wait. I’m patient, after-”

Illumi reached a hand towards him, grabbing the man before he could leave. _For my younger brother._

He leaned towards the alpha. _I don’t need a weapon,_ a part of his mind echoed. _A kiss could disarm him._

The assassin cupped Hisoka’s cheek, pulling him in. The man gave no resistance, just stared at him curiously. Illumi’s eyes slid shut, and he sank into a gentle kiss.

All planes of reality disappeared.

They melted away, and there were no contracts, rules, orders, pain, fear, logic, or reason. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and Illumi felt his last name die. It buried itself in this moment, frozen in time, between him and this playful, whimsical, and beautiful fool named Hisoka.

Hisoka, who looked at him not as a commodity, but as a person to be loved and desired.

Illumi thought once more of that indescribable moment, between the pinnacle of the world and an endless horizon.

 _I can’t do it,_ the assassin thought, in the smallest, most valuable part of his heart.

_If I kill him, I will never be able to return to this moment._

He fell away with a shuddering breath. Hisoka slowly opened his eyes, lips still parted. When the assassin saw the purity of emotion on the man’s face, he knew that the contract had been nulled.

The jester was staring at him in wonder.

“Good night, Hisoka.”

He shut the door softly, a hand lingering on the knob. The assassin held a palm to his lips, feeling the phantom of their first kiss.

Illumi sank to the floor.

He leaned his head against the wood, listening, as the jester’s footsteps clumsily clicked away on the other side. Hisoka walked like he was stumbling against the very wind.

Illumi lifted his palm away from his lips. There was a slight sheen of wetness on his fingers, that could be seen in the sliver of light from his door. His eyes were stinging.  
  
_I’m crying,_ the assassin realized, in the darkness of his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally... after 11 chapters of comedy... 1 chapter of terror... and my most poetic chapter of all... I have broken Illumi. I've waited so long.


	14. Divine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harsh lessons are learned, and harsh realities are faced.

It was Sunday morning.

It was Sunday morning, and Hisoka wasn’t answering his phone.

Gon had been certain.

He’d been certain that Illumi wouldn’t kill Hisoka, he was sure that his own biology would be enough to prevent it, so why wasn’t the man picking up his phone? Besides, if Illumi had genuinely completed the contract, Killua wouldn’t be peacefully dozing off by his side.

Perhaps the jester was simply asleep.

Or perhaps, there was some unseen factor that Gon hadn’t taken account for, and now Hisoka was really…

The boy felt anxiety dance around in his stomach. He glanced at his best friend, still sleeping peacefully, and he left for Heaven’s Arena.

* * *

 

“So,” Pakunoda smiled, eagerly. “How was it?”

Hisoka raised a brow. “Why are you asking?” he retorted. “Can’t you just touch me and see for yourself?”

The blonde looked at him suddenly, with her happiest, greediest eyes. The jester had a moment of mild regret. “I can? It’s not too personal? Give me your hand,” she demanded, holding out her own.

“Wait, what about me?” Machi asked indignantly. “What am I, chopped liver?”

They looked over at her. While the woman had seemed the least enthusiastic about every ordeal leading up to the date, she had her own special kind of excitement on the matter. It just wasn’t very visible. “I can shoot you afterwards,” Pakunoda told her, waving a hand.

Machi huffed, tucking her chin in her palm. “Well, go on then. I’m waiting over here.”

Pakunoda smiled. She grabbed Hisoka’s hand, and said, “Date!”

Hisoka’s mind swarmed with the memories. He thought of each soft, vulnerable moment spent holding Illumi’s hand. He remembered the songs, the sunset, the shining look in Illumi’s eyes, as though the assassin had genuinely seen him for the first time.

Machi watched as Pakunoda’s expression took on a deep, sentimental change.

When she was done, she lifted her hand off with a sigh. The woman had a stupefied smile.

“Wonderful. I _told_ you, he’d never reject you again. I said it.” Pakunoda was quite pleased with herself. Hisoka laughed. “Thank you,” he replied, earnestly.

Machi sat up in irritation. “Ok, me now. Shoot me.” She pointed at her own forehead impatiently. The blonde chuckled, reaching out for her gun. She locked in a bullet, charging it with Hisoka’s lovely memories of his first date. “Is this alright, though?” the woman asked suddenly, looking over at the jester. “I don’t know if I should fire a gun in your apartment. Won’t you get in trouble?”

“Oh, come on,” Machi complained. “We’ll say it was the TV or something! Just shoot me already!”

Pakunoda sighed, and shot her.

The woman stumbled a little at the impact. She shook her head woozily, registering the barrage of emotions that weren’t her own. “Wow,” she said, breathlessly.

 _“Wow,”_ Machi repeated, with more feeling.

“Hisoka…” the pink-haired woman sighed. “That was lovely. I can’t believe it, you actually did everything right. I’m so pro-”

The door slammed violently, and all three of them hopped off of Hisoka’s bed.

“HISOKA!” Gon yelled, at the top of his lungs. He was frantically breathing, and covered in sweat. Machi was briefly reminded of her own terror when the jester had called to beg her to save his life.

“G-Gon,” Hisoka replied, hesitantly. “Hi~?”

The boy looked around, registering the scene. “I heard a gunshot,” he blurted out, still gasping for air. “I… I thought you _died,”_ he cried, in distress.

“Oh, Gon, it’s my nen ability, Hisoka’s fine, don’t worry,” Pakunoda walked over, patting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“H-he is?” Gon looked him over more carefully. The jester gave a blank stare. “I’m fine, Gon. In fact, I’m great,” Hisoka smiled at him, and realized what would cheer the boy up. “Ah! Actually, do you want to hear about my date?”

It was like the jester had said something horrific. Without warning, Gon burst into tears. He was not cheered up.

“H-... _Hisoka,”_ he wailed, waddling over to the man. The boy grabbed the man, pulling him into a tight, mildly painful hug. “I thought you _died!”_

Hisoka looked down, helplessly confused. “As… As you can see, Gon, I’m quite alive.” He patted the boy’s back.

The jester had no experience comforting people. Actually, his experience probably dipped into the negatives. He’d only ever succeeded with Illumi, and it was most likely because the man was attracted to him.

“Gon,” Machi said, suddenly. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you say something to Illumi?” Pakunoda asked. She was looking at her own hand, which had touched the boy’s shoulder. The pink haired woman looked back at her, and then scrutinized Gon more carefully.

The boy finally let go of Hisoka, rubbing away at his tears. He couldn’t look Machi in the eye.

“I… Machi, I’m sorry. I’m really, _really_ sorry,” he spoke, in complete remorse. Gon apologized frantically to each of them, until they finally settled him down and demanded answers.

With a heavy heart, the boy admitted everything. He let Pakunoda see his memories, see the night he’d struck a terrible deal with Illumi on the grounds of a foolish, angry challenge. “I really didn’t mean for it to happen. I should have left when I had the chance.”

Hisoka was shocked. His understanding of Illumi’s reactions changed, rapidly. “That… That could have been my last kiss with Illumi.”

He touched his own lips. Somehow, knowing that his date with Illumi had been teetering on the edge of death made it even more meaningful.

Pakunoda shook her head, reviewing the memories. “Gon was right, though. We all saw how your date went, and you took him to an abandoned building next to the river. The fact that he couldn’t kill you in literally the most convenient setting means that he wouldn’t have been able to at all.”

Hisoka nodded. “Yeah, I suppose so. It’s a good thing, then.”

Machi had a furious expression.

“What are you saying?” She snapped at the other two. “You can’t just let this go! Gon!” The boy jolted his head up to look at her, eyes swimming with guilt. Machi folded her arms together, taking a firm stance. “What were you thinking? Did you forget what you promised me?”

The other two adults shared an absent look. Neither had any idea as to what Machi was referencing.

“I didn’t!” Gon insisted.

“That’s even worse, then! That just means you didn’t care!”

“I do! I swear, I do!”

Machi marched up, looking the boy right in the eye. She slapped him hard.

“Machi!” Pakunoda gasped, a hand to her mouth. Hisoka looked at her with wide eyes. “Machi, it’s ok, I’m not really mad at Gon, you know~? Nothing bad actually happened, after all.” She grit her teeth in irritation at the words. “Hisoka, shut up, I’m trying to prove a point.”

Gon got up sullenly. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

The woman sighed heavily at him. “Those are cheap words. You just proved to me that words don’t mean anything to you.”

“They do, I just… I was just…”

“You were what? Angry? You were just angry, and it almost led to Hisoka dying, and your best friend leaving you forever. Was it worth it, Gon? Is your pride worth more to you than your friends?”

Gon swallowed thickly. “No, it wasn’t worth it,” the boy began, miserable. “I tried to call Hisoka today, and I was so scared when he didn’t pick up. I thought before, that Illumi killing him would be impossible, but… But when Hisoka didn’t answer, all I could think about was every scenario where he could.”

The jester peeked at his phone. It had been on silent since he’d gone dancing, and he simply forgot to turn his volume back up. There were four missed calls. Whoops.

"How can you prove to me that you mean what you say, Gon?" Machi asked, shaking her head. "If words aren't enough, and your actions say otherwise, how can you prove it?" 

That was really too much for the boy. He looked like he was on the verge of another breakdown. "I can't," he answered, painfully. "I can't excuse myself. I can't. I know." 

Hisoka looked at them all, witnessing the heavy aura that was cast over the room.  _Wasn't it my life on the line?_  He thought to himself.  _Why does everyone else look so terrible?_

“Gon,” Pakunoda said gently, reflecting on their conversation. “I don’t really know what promise you have with Machi, but I can tell you this.”

The boy nodded, waiting for her words.

“In this lifetime, you may only have the aid of your friends when you face the world. Otherwise, you’d have to brave it alone. The connections you make with these people are the only thing that’s truly valuable, and they must be honored. The world won’t let you hold onto anything else, after all. Don’t throw people away, Gon.”

Machi huffed, looking at the blonde with appreciation. _“Thank_ you,” she muttered, clapping her hands.

Hisoka raised a brow. “Is it that serious?” he asked, scratching his head. Machi told him to shut up.

* * *

 

After the fiasco that was Sunday morning, Hisoka had been a little worried as to how Illumi was reacting to the situation. The assassin was often unpredictable, after all, and he wasn’t sure if their first date had been a breakthrough or a grand mistake. It could very well have been Illumi’s last straw.

He hoped Gon’s intuition still served well.

Hisoka had texted the omega, just testing out the waters after their first date. It was a simple greeting, with a little nudge to see how Illumi was feeling. The jester took Machi’s words to heart, and he treaded as carefully as he could. God knew what he’d do if all that careful planning went down the drain.

He’d sent the text at around evening, giving Illumi full breadth to ruminate. To his surprise, the assassin responded merely a few minutes later.

Hisoka wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he hadn’t expected, _“I’m leaving tonight for the Zoldyck estate. I’ll be back in a day or two, probably.”_

On Sunday night, the jester caught Illumi at the door.

“You’re… leaving?” Hisoka asked, eyes wide. The assassin nodded.

“Are you coming back?” He looked like he wanted to reach out and make Illumi stay. The man saw this, and smiled. “I’m only leaving for a day,” he repeated, in person this time. “I need to go home and talk about something. This isn’t a conversation I can have on the phone.”

“You’re really coming back, right?”

The assassin nodded in affirmation. “Yes, Hisoka, I am. I promise.”

He leaned in, giving the man a soft kiss. “There,” he hummed. “Sealed with a kiss.”

Illumi almost slid away, but he was stopped. Hisoka stared at him with open wanting.  “Wait…” the jester began, leaning just a centimeter away. “I need this to last a little longer,” he said, against the assassin’s lips. The man was leaving, after all. “Is that too much to ask?”

Illumi exhaled shakily.

“No,” he replied, tilting his cheek. The jester held him close, caressing the small of his back. They kissed, feverishly, until Hisoka was absolutely certain he would return.

* * *

 

“Welcome back, young master,” Gotoh bowed low as Illumi walked in the Zoldyck threshold.

The eldest son looked around, observing the unchanged state of the mansion. It often felt refreshing to return to, but he did not feel the same way he usually did. 

“Hello, Gotoh.”

“I see you are well,” the butler remarked. “That’s good. We were quite worried.”

Illumi gave him a dull glance. “Were you, now,” the assassin replied. Gotoh looked at him with mild perplexion, but continued with his commentary. “Have you returned to report to your father? He is currently in th-”

“No, I’m here to see mother, actually.”

The butler paused. “Of course, young master. She is currently in the garden.”

“Thank you.”

He left, turning corners in the mansion until he eventually reached the inner corridors. The garden was in the center of the Zoldyck estate, where there was an open courtyard. Illumi exited, wandering into the flourishing yard.  
  
He saw his mother, sitting in her treasured little gazebo. She was gazing lovingly at her peonies. April was just beginning, which meant that they were starting to bloom.

Illumi tucked inside, joining her. “Hello, mother,” he greeted. Kikyo looked at him pleasantly. There was no surprise on her face. She’d most likely seen him on her visor the second he walked in the door. “Good morning, Illu. How are you? Are your contracts going well?”

She gathered her ballgown, sliding over so that the eldest Zoldyck could sit and speak.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” The woman nodded. Illumi looked at her carefully. “You don’t have bandages anymore,” he remarked, after a moment. The visor covered so much of her face, he almost hadn’t noticed. “Oh! Yes, I’ve healed,” she stated, awkwardly. “Speaking of, how’s Killua? You’re teaching him nen at Heaven’s Arena, yes?”

Illumi hesitated. At this point, he really wasn’t. “Yes, I am,” the assassin lied. He was in no mood to explain himself. At least, not yet.

“Very good,” the woman answered, yet again.

“And…” It seemed she lost the patience to dance around the matter. “That… alpha? Do you still speak to him?”

Illumi’s lips turned up in a smile. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Are you afraid of him, mother?” the assassin asked, with some amount of mirth. Kikyo looked at him with a subtle frown. “It’s not that,” she replied. “He’s just… crazier than I thought he’d be.”

That was something, coming from Kikyo Zoldyck. “He’s not crazy,” Illumi retorted. “Well… Ok, he’s definitely stupid,” he re-evaluated, after a moment’s thought. “And a little bit death-seeking... But I think he’s getting better at controlling himself.” It was hard to believe that Hisoka hadn’t said anything to piss him off lately. It’d been a while since Illumi had broken a wall.

“...Is he, now,” Kikyo said, quite skeptically. “This is the man who told your father that he’d mate you in a crowded stadium.”

Illumi’s cheeks burned red.

“Yes. It is.” He’d buried that memory. “He was kidding. He can’t help but push buttons sometimes.”

The woman scoffed. “That’s pushing a _button?”_ Kikyo asked, in disbelief. She sighed deeply, a hand at her temple. “What a troublemaker. Silva was speechless after that text, he kept staring at it for hours! He couldn’t believe that someone said that about you, to _him._ Zeno couldn’t stop laughing.”

“He’s… different now, I swear,” Illumi defended, albeit weakly.

Kikyo turned back to look at him, and even with the visor, Illumi could sense her perturbed expression. “You _do_ talk to him,” she stated, almost accusatory. “Why?”

Illumi sighed.

He’d had a sleepless night and a plane ride to reflect on everything that had happened. After hours of thought, the eldest son had come back to the household for his first course of action. “Mother,” he began. “I have a lot of things I need to explain.”

“Wh-, are you... are you _pregna-”_

“No, not that,” the son answered quickly. The thought of being pregnant with Hisoka’s child was… He didn’t want to know his own response to that thought yet, so he turned it away to focus on the matter at hand.

“I just want to ask you a question first,” Illumi began, hesitantly.

The woman started to fidget her hands. It was a nervous habit. “Yes?” She asked, unsure of what to predict.

Illumi nodded. He shut his eyes, thinking of what to say. His next words took courage to speak. “Mother, do you love me?”

He stared at her, waiting. Kikyo was silent. It was very likely that none of her children had ever asked that question. _Zoldyck children never would,_ Illumi thought to himself. _We’re probably too afraid of the answer._

“I…” She stuttered. “I… Why, of _course_ I do! I mean, was that a serious question?” He could hear the rest of her response, already echoing in his head. _I do everything for you. I teach you, I train you, I plan your future, I guide your path, I give you strength, I protect you from all of the world’s pains and poisons, because I show you pain first…_

He knew that answer, because just a week ago, it was his own.

“I see,” Illumi murmured, softly. He glanced away.

 _“The Zoldycks don’t know how to love,”_ Gon had said. _“You only know how to torture people, test them, manipulate them, use them, but you don’t know how to love.”_  
  
They slid into silence.

Illumi looked out at the blooming peonies, feeling a smile curve on his lips at the sight. It’d been just two days before that he’d experienced a moment that eclipsed his life. His mother watched him warily, the light of the visor beaming in his peripheral vision.

“Is there… a reason you asked that?” She pried, slowly.

He turned back to her.

“Mother, do you know what my favorite flowers are?”

The woman paused, caught off guard. “You like flowers?”

The eldest son smiled ruefully. “I do,” he affirmed, with a distant expression.

“A week ago, I had a run-in with Gon,” he began, recollecting. Kikyo frowned miserably upon hearing that name. “That brat?” She muttered, under her breath. “Tell me you finally got to kill him.”

Illumi shook his head. “We struck a deal, actually. Or rather, he said something he didn’t mean to say, and I took it quite seriously.” He looked over at his mother. “It was a contract, in the loosest terms. I’d kill Hisoka, and in return, I’d take Killua back with me.”

Silence. Kikyo looked at him, fingers fidgeting. “You…”

“He was certain I wouldn’t be able to do it,” Illumi remarked.

He shut his eyes, thinking of Hisoka’s hand intertwined with his own.

“He was right.”  

Kikyo let out a shuddering breath. “Illumi,” she hissed. “You could have brought back Killua?”

“...In the hypothetical sense, yes,” the son answered. “So, the only real condition was that I had to kill him on Saturday.” He could feel his mother’s prickling irritation. _“Saturday?_ That was two days ago. Killua could have been back _two days_ ago.”

The assassin smiled in amusement, though there was just a tinge of annoyance. It had only been a few weeks since she’d begged him to marry this man, this man that she barely knew. He spoke, continuing over her. “You see, Hisoka had asked me out on a date. I went out on my first date with him.”

Kikyo stared at him. Illumi glanced back, uncomfortable that he couldn’t see his mother’s expression.

“I was planning to kill him when he knocked on my door. Element of surprise, and all.” The woman nodded slowly.

“But, you see, he distracted me first.” Here, Illumi’s eyes glazed over in fond memory. “He’d brought a bouquet. They were these peonies-, not the small, thin, types. The big, fluffy kind.” He motioned with his hands, as though it would add to the explanation. “They were such a striking color. Deep red, a bit of purple, and a golden yellow center-,”

“Kansas peonies,” his mother answered mechanically. “They’re a variation of red peonies, they’re quite popular. Those types are mostly a late spring or summer variant, to buy them now must have been expensive.”

“Kansas?” Illumi asked, softly. “How interesting. I don’t think I can correlate them with such a boring place. Their colors remind me of him, after all…”

He drifted off. “Though I suppose there is that one movie. You know, with that quote. Where the film cuts from black and white, to all these vibrant colors, and the girl says ‘We’re not in Kansas, anymore’,” Illumi blinked suddenly. “You know, there was a moment in the date that really felt like that.”

Kikyo watched the way his eyes began to shine. “...Was there?”

“Yeah, there was. But that’s near the end. I’ve hardly started.”

The mother settled down, hands dropping to her side. She had a small frown marring her face. “Go on, then. Explain yourself.”

And so he spoke. “He brought me these peonies, and I’d asked him why. He told me that he’d remembered this conversation I’d had with him, where I said peonies were my favorite.” Kikyo tilted her head in curiosity, looking back at her flowers. “Really?” She asked, voiced tinted with surprise. Illumi nodded. “Yes. I’d explained to him before; you’d have them all around the house, and each bouquet would only last for a few days, but…”

“You like them?” The woman murmured. “You should have said something. I’ll leave a few in your room.”

“Perhaps. So he got them for me, and I guess I was just shocked because, mother…” Illumi looked at her carefully. He’d thought long and hard about that moment in his doorway, and he realized just how much it meant to him. “That had been such an insignificant detail. It was just a passing, but he remembered.”

“Oh.”

The son let a pause sink between them. After another moment, he began again. “So he took me to this restaurant. Of course, Hisoka wasn’t done pandering to my tastes, so it was one of my favorite restaurants in the city. He told me then that we were going to be dancing.”

“Dancing?”

She’d asked in that slight, scandalized tone. “Yes, I know. Rather intimate, for an alpha and an omega. In retrospect, I think that’s precisely why he did it.”

Illumi had to shower twice to get Hisoka’s smell off of him. His black clothes completely smelled like the man, to the point that he couldn’t wear them to the Zoldyck estate without turning heads. “So he told me that we were going to a record shop, and that I would get to pick my favorite albums. That would be our soundtrack.”

“What music did you pick?”

Illumi looked over at her again, staring meaningfully. “Can you guess, mother? You know each record.”

“I… I do?”

“Symphonie Fantastique,” Illumi stated. “Berlioz,” Kikyo answered back, instantly. “BWV 1065,” he said. “Concerto for Four Harpsichords. Bach.” Illumi began to smile. “Piano Concerto No. 1, B flat m-”

“Why, Tchaikovsky of course. My personal favorite,” Kikyo whispered lovingly. She played it when she was in her best mood, and it would echo down the corridors. It was the way the composer brought an orchestra into triumph, or plunged a joyous piece into a desperate minor. She had always loved Tchaikovsky.

Illumi nodded, continuing. “Concerto for Two Pianos, K. 36-,” The woman interrupted him. “Mozart,” she answered, beginning to understand.

“Waltz No. 2,” Illumi said, finally. Kikyo answered yet again. “Shostakovich. Illumi... You like classical music?”

The conversation had begun to pain him. Here he was, sitting across from his mother, who had influenced him almost entirely, and yet she knew nothing of her own influence.

He didn’t answer her. “That’s what we were going to do,” Illumi said, instead. “We were going to waltz.” His eyes grew distant again, stinging with a memory that burned away at everything he stood for.

“I chose 15 records. Some are just singles, some are full pieces with several movements… They’re all composers that you know, mother. Every last one.” Kikyo became very silent. She watched him, expression ever unreadable. Illumi continued. “But I didn’t know where we were dancing. He said it was a surprise.”

The son stopped there, lingering on his own thoughts. How could he explain every moment that happened afterwards? Could they be summed up in words?

“Where did he take you? A ballroom? A studio?”

Illumi began to earnestly laugh. “No,” he said, chuckling. “Even better. An abandoned building.”

“... _What?”_

He covered his face, grinning uncontrollably at her complete confusion. Words couldn’t do it justice.

After he settled down, Illumi attempted to describe what had happened. “So he brought me to the rooftop. It was just a bland slab, hovering over an even blander river, but he described it as the most beautiful place in town. You can imagine my confusion.” Kikyo gave him a disconcerted look.

“And then…” Illumi looked up to the heavens. “Hisoka put on a song, from Mozart I believe. He pointed at the skies.”

He shut his eyes.

“Mother, it _was_ beautiful.”

Kikyo swallowed thickly. Not once in her life had she heard her son describe anything as beautiful.

“The sun was setting, right behind Heaven’s Arena. The whole city turned into this deep, golden color. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that color. And the arena itself,” he reached an arm out, as though he could grab at the very memory. “It cast such a deep shadow. It’s the fourth tallest building in the world, you know? And the shadow was reaching out, past all these warehouses, and old buildings, and…”

His arm lowered. “It ended at my feet. And I know, it’s foolish, it’s strange, but in that moment… Heaven’s Arena felt so tall, but, I felt _taller.”_

The woman couldn’t speak.

Illumi continued.

“And my eyes slid past my own shadow, and I saw that river. It was shining. It was as gold as the sky, and I didn’t feel real when I looked at it. All the colors bled into the clouds, and there I was, standing on top of the world.”

Illumi shut his eyes again, buried deep in his own memory. “Everywhere I looked, it was that same, beautiful color, and _then..._ And then I finally looked at Hisoka. He held out his hand, and said...”

The son made a smooth flourish with his hand. “...Would you like to learn the waltz, now?”

He stopped, there. He stopped, before he did something foolish, like cry in front of his mother.

Illumi gathered himself, slowly recovering so that he could finish his story. After a long sigh, he began again. “We danced for hours. He loves dancing,” the son remarked. “As it turns out, so do I.”

Kikyo was trembling.

“He made me feel like I was floating. I hadn’t realized it, but night had fallen.”

Here, he glanced carefully at his mother. “I don’t think I need to tell you that by then, I’d forgotten about the contract.” She gasped softly, as though she’d forgotten as well.

“In fact, I only remembered at the very end, just as we were standing at my apartment door. He’d asked me for a kiss goodnight.” He touched his own lips. Kikyo watched the movement with rapture. “I kissed him, with the intent to kill him then and there, even if it destroyed me.”

She began to shake her head.

“And, as you already know…”

“You couldn’t.”

Illumi nodded. He gave her his bitterest smile. “You see, I don’t need to ask if Hisoka loves me. I already know the answer.”

She sucked in a small, quivering breath. Illumi looked off, pained that Kikyo could not even refute it.

“But… I know what this all means. It’s a terrible thing that I’ve done,” he uttered, looking at the ground. “I’ve traded my brother for a moment.”

His mother began to take off her hat, settling it delicately in her lap. Illumi continued, still looking away. “So I came here, to explain to you, because… In truth, you’re probably the only one who might understand. Frankly, I don’t think this is an experience I will be able to recover from. I don’t think I want to recover, either.” He heard clicking sounds, like latches coming apart.

The assassin turned his head.

“Mother,” he stuttered, in shock.

For the first time in two decades, he saw Kikyo's eyes.

She looked at him with a vulnerable expression, visor trembling in her hands.

“Illumi,” she said, and it was the tenderest she’d ever spoken his name. “That was… Divine.” She spoke, not as a mother, not even as an omega, but as someone who had just been faced with something too powerful to understand.

Kikyo began to earnestly weep.

It was a soft sound, not like her usual wailing or screams.

Somewhere in his mind, Illumi understood her reaction. His mother never outright said it, but she loved beautiful things. She had grown up in Meteor City, a pitiless land that gave nothing- no, _less_ than nothing, to its inhabitants. Kikyo chased after beauty. She chased after its sound, its image… but not once in her life had she felt it.

Illumi did not care for when his mother cried in pride, but he was still her son, and he did not like to hear her cry in pain. Yet he had no way to comfort her. “I think you understand why I did what I did,” he said. She nodded her head, still sobbing in that quiet, aching way.

“I’m glad, then. I’m sorry mother, but I have to go. He’s waiting for me.”

He left her there, surrounded by her flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my longest chapter yet. I am just, developing everyone, character development might as well be my middle name.


	15. In Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illumi becomes tender.

It was April 3rd.

Illumi had returned to Heaven’s Arena. As promised, only a day had passed. He looked out his window, from the 218th floor, and watched the sun rise over the skyline. The omega was beginning to grow fond of this city.

He started his morning with a shower. After a good 15 minutes (he’d chosen not to wash his hair), Illumi got out, patting himself down. He dressed in simple clothes, having no plan to leave his apartment. It was around 9:30 in the morning by the time he got a phone call.

He glanced at the I.D, and picked up the phone.

“Hisoka?”

 _“Illuuumi, are you back yeeet?”_ The jester whined impatiently.

“Yes. I told you I’d be,” he affirmed. He heard Hisoka gasp excitedly. _“Thank goodness. Gon left to hang out with Killua, and Machi and Pakunoda went shopping without me. I’m so bored.”_

Illumi raised a brow. The jester seemed to have a lot more friends than he’d started with. “Well, come over then. We can eat breakfast or something.” Heaven’s Arena had fairly decent meals available for room service.

Hisoka hung up. Within a few minutes, he was outside of Illumi’s apartment. The jester knocked politely.

Illumi opened the door, letting him in.

“Ah~, I don’t think I’ve ever actually been ins-”

The alpha stopped himself suddenly, taking a small whiff. “Illumi, did you put on lotion today?” The assassin blinked. He’d forgotten. “No, actually,” he admitted.

The jester leaned into him, nuzzling his neck. “Wonderful,” the man said. “This is wonderful.”

Illumi felt his cheeks heat up. Most likely, this was the first time Hisoka had ever gotten to fully smell his scent.

The jester leaned away, smiling pleasantly. He promptly walked over to Illumi’s bed, dropping into it. In a few seconds, Hisoka had wrapped himself in the assassin’s blankets, and buried his own face in a pillow. “Magnificent,” the jester mumbled, muffled by the pillow. He was surrounded by the assassin's scent. Illumi laughed. “Hisoka, don’t act so silly.”

The alpha peeked out. “Ah, I know what would complete this. Illumi, get over here~.”

The assassin turned bright red. Get in bed? With Hisoka?

He felt his stomach do a little flip.  

Hisoka caught his shy expression. “Oooh, we’re not going to be doing anything like that... Unless you want to.” Saying something like that didn’t really help. Nevertheless, Illumi inched over towards the bed, hesitantly crawling onto it. The alpha shifted, opening up the blanket pile. “In here,” he said, making room. Illumi stared at his feet. “You still have your shoes on.”

“Whoops,” the jester muttered. He tossed his heels off. “Sorry, I got excited.”

The assassin raised a brow, now smiling. “Ok, ok, now get in. Tell me what happened yesterday,” Hisoka insisted. Illumi slid into the blanket cocoon, and the alpha encased him into a hug. It was warm.

They settled there, for a second, both basking in the strange feeling of having their scents blend together.

“I went home to talk to my mother about a contract,” Illumi explained, after a moment of comfortable silence. He felt the jester nod behind him. “The one against me, right?” Hisoka asked. Illumi turned around in surprise.

“You knew?”

The alpha smiled cheekily. “Of course.” He paused. “Well, no, actually. I only found out when Gon admitted it. Apparently, he was really worried that I might actually die.”

“Oh,” Illumi responded, blankly. “Well, he shouldn’t have been. He was right, after all.”

The jester smiled at this. He held the assassin closer. “Gon thought he was right, too, which is why he didn’t say anything for a week. He only actually freaked out when I didn’t pick up my phone the next day. I forgot to take it off silent mode.”

Illumi laughed. “That’s terrible," he said, and he meant it. It was strange, he no longer desired for Gon to feel pain. "Were you not concerned by this contract at all?” It seemed that the jester had already gotten over the fact that such an agreement existed on their first date. He couldn’t sense a single drop of fear, anger, sadness, worry, or even a bothered tone from the man.

Hisoka snorted, nuzzling up to him. “Illumi, if I was stressed every time someone wanted to kill me, I’d be stressed for the rest of my life. Anyways, you were talking about this contract?”

Ah. Illumi continued. “I was telling my mother about you.”

He thought back to the conversation, still feeling her turmoil. Hisoka urged him to continue.

“I told her about the date, and we talked about… We talked about a lot of personal matters, I suppose. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a deep conversation with her before.” It was a shame that this would likely be his last chance to converse so openly with her. After seeing her heartbroken state, he was sure that she wouldn’t want to speak to him again.

“Really? Did she like it?”

Now that was a good question.

“I don’t know,” Illumi answered, honestly. He thought longer, lingering on the memory of his mother’s vulnerable, shuddering form. “I don’t think she’s ever faced something so real. When we were done talking, she was crying.”

Illumi sighed, staring at the alpha’s arms wrapped around him.

 _Hisoka,_ he thought. _You’re changing me. You're changing me, and I don’t think my family will like it._

* * *

 

It was in the middle of the day, just as he was organizing the household’s daily schedule, that Gotoh was informed of an emergency.  
  
It was one of the junior butlers, notifying him that Kikyo was having a breakdown. Why this was classified as an emergency, he did not know. An emergency usually signified a dangerous intruder, or some sort of internal affair, like Alluka. Kikyo did not fall under those terms.

“Perhaps, time and space for the lady will do her som-”

“I apologize, sir,” the young butler interrupted. “I don’t think this is that simple. She... She’s in the studio, breaking her records.”

The man stared back at him in alarm.

“What?” He blurted.

Impossible. Kikyo was fiercely protective of her collection. It occupied its own room, with a magnificent sound system and display. She had classics, rarities, every opera, concerto, or symphony ever written. She played music for hours.

The butler nodded, an anxious expression on his face.

Gotoh saw then, that it was not a simple matter. “Evacuate the others. I’ll handle this.”

He dismissed the young man, and swiftly paced over to the studio.

The man turned a few corridors, walking as briskly as he’d ever walked. He reached a small section of the Zoldyck estate, Kikyo’s section, full of her beloved little things, and eventually, he heard a terrible sound. It echoed down the halls like a howling demon.

It was her, crying, in the most pained cry he’d ever heard. The sound was accompanied by the crashing cacophony of her records.

Gotoh opened the door.

The lady of the house turned to him, staring him down, with her eyes; her red, stinging, burning eyes. “Madame,” he uttered in surprise. “Your visor.” His gaze lowered to her hands. They were covered in blood. She’d broken a myriad of records, along with a few vases filled with her flowers. Kikyo did not seem to notice any physical pain.  
  
“Leave me alone,” she choked, trembling. Tears slid down her cheeks, silently.

Kikyo turned away, staring resentfully at a section of her music. Tchaikovsky.

Without another word, she grabbed the very first vinyl of that section, Piano Concerto No. 1, in B Flat Minor, and chucked it at the wall. It shattered instantly.

“My lady, please tell me what’s wrong,” Gotoh pressed. The butler quietly shut the door, hoping to contain her rage in one room.

She glared at him, and roared, “Leave me alone!”

Kikyo took the rest of her collection, every beloved piece by Tchaikovsky, and began to toss them all to the floor. Gotoh rushed to stop her. “Madame, some of these are your rarest pieces, if you destroy them, you will certainly regre-”

“I’ve lost my son,” she said, suddenly.

“What?”  
**  
** **_“I’VE LOST MY SON!”_ **

The room reverberated with the force of her nen. Tchaikovsky's records toppled to the ground, scattering in black shards all over the floor. Kikyo crumbled with them, sinking to her knees. Her hair pooled over her until Gotoh could see nothing at all.

He took a small breath. “Killua?” The man asked, in trepidation. “Did that br- If it was Gon, I will hunt him down persona-”  
  
_“No,”_ the woman hissed, still curled into herself. “Killua could still return. He’s still young… He’s... He’s still…”

She wept into her hands, unable to speak. Gotoh hesitantly leaned down, until he was sitting by her side.

“Please, tell me. Perhaps there is a solution to whatever you’re addressing.”

Silence. They sat there, time ticking away slowly. The woman looked at him, beneath her ragged hair, between her trembling fingers. “No,” she answered, quietly. “There isn’t.”

The butler swallowed thickly. “Then, just tell me.”

Kikyo stared at the floor. Her breath shuddered, once, then twice. The man waited patiently, until she looked up, and spoke. “Gotoh,” the woman said, quietly, “Do you remember being a resident of Meteor City?”

The butler paused. He nodded. “It is not something that can be forgotten.”

Kikyo smiled, bitterly. Her eyes gravitated back towards the ground, as though she was looking into a pool of her own memories. “No, it isn’t. Did you like it?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Living there. Did you like it?”

The butler had become puzzled. He indulged her questions, anyway.

“Meteor City is not a place worth liking.” It was dirty. It was a long, rotting, piling wasteland that extended impossibly far into a hopeless horizon. Living there made him feel purposeless, like he was nothing more than a smudge on the decaying ground.

“It isn’t,” Kikyo affirmed. “It’s disgusting. You understand.”

He understood it, which was why he understood her.

“I grew up there until I was 18,” Kikyo remarked, searching into the past. “I hated it. I hated the smells, the garbage, always endless piles of trash, trash that I was forced to live off of. I was so angry, it made me want to kill.” Thus, she had become an assassin.

“I know,” Gotoh answered. Kikyo nodded, rubbing at her eyes.

“I’d always loved Silva, even when I first met him. He was untouched by the scum of the earth.”

She remembered meeting the man, when he was 22 years old. All black clothes, with pure, white hair. She knew he was an alpha. She knew by the way he walked, the way he looked at other people. Kikyo, like many other residents of Meteor City, did not care for her own secondary gender. She did not care, until she met him.

“You see, he had so much pride.”

It was something that the woman knew nothing of. All her life, she’d been surrounded by a world that had nothing worth clinging to, and then she’d met a man brimming with purpose. He, and the Zoldycks, had changed her. “When I married him, I was happy. I devoted myself to training our children, to adopting Zoldyck rules as my own principles. I was content, that I could afford to live in a house filled to the brim with treasures, some of them my own making!”

She picked up a shard, staring at the lines of light it cast. “And yet…”

Her body quivered, and the woman tightened her grip, watching blood pour out of her hands.

“Madame,” Gotoh whispered, reaching out. “Please, don’t hurt yourself.”

She ignored him. “If only I’d known, Gotoh... If only I’d known, that by _clinging,”_ the mother stood up, tears falling again. “That by clinging, to those small beauties I’d never gotten to have,” the music, the dresses, the flowers, the art, “That by clinging to what I never got to experience!” She tore at her collection. She took it, boxes of it, and flung them at the walls.

“If only I’d known, that it would instill the same _hunger_ in my own _son!”_ Kikyo swiveled her head towards him, a wild expression on her face. “Was it my fault?!” The mother screamed, desperately. “Was it!?” She didn’t wait for an answer.

“How could I have known?! How could I have known, that my son still searched, for beauty, for greatness, when I had already given him a magnificent home with a magnificent name! _I had nothing!_ My children have _EVERYTHING!”_

Gotoh didn’t respond.

She had broken nearly everything in the room, but the woman was still not satisfied.

Kikyo stormed out, steps pounding down the corridor. The butler swiftly followed her. “Madame, please, what are you referring to?” He was at a loss.

“Illumi,” she spat, in pain. The woman broke into a closet full of alcohol, all high percentages because Zoldycks hardly ever got drunk on the weaker liquors. She took out a bottle, glanced at it, muttered “70 percent,” and tossed it to the floor. It shattered, seeping into the carpet with a strong smell.

The woman rummaged around some more, tossing bottle after expensive bottle, until she settled on a brand with 90 percent alcohol volume.

“Finally.”

Gotoh looked at her warily. “Madame, I understand you are distressed about something, but drinking is not the wisest solu-”

Kikyo laughed. “There is no solution. Illumi is gone.”

“He was just here, my lady. He will most likely return soon,” he stated.

She shook her head. “No, Gotoh. My son is gone, and I’m never getting him back. He’s not a Zoldyck anymore. We might as well call him Illumi Morow.”

To think, that the eldest would turn his back like this. Of all her children, Illumi was the most faithful. Milluki was an escapist disappointment, Killua had run away with some island brat, Kalluto was still too young and afraid, and Alluka… Alluka was her personal disgrace.

And here she stood, watching Illumi fall so deeply and irreparably in love, that he would leave his own family behind.

“I never should have let him see a glimpse of beauty.”

She turned away, walking towards the inner corridors.

“Madame, he could very well return to the Zoldycks, better yet, that alpha could be manip-”

“You didn’t see the look in his eyes,” the woman retorted, simply. “You weren’t there.” She said it in such a foreboding manner that he fell into silence. Kikyo finally reached a door, opening it to reveal her garden. Her lovely, little garden.

She wondered, to herself, when had Illumi fallen in love with flowers? When had he grown to listen to classical music? Did he ever listen to her songs alone?

“It was terrible, Gotoh. He left me there, he left me, and I couldn’t find a reason to make him stay. Hisoka has changed him. Hisoka, that miserable, little _shit,_ gave him a glimpse of glory, and it _blinded him.”_

The mother turned to the butler, clutching at her heart. “I hate it. I knew, I knew what Illumi had discovered was beautiful. I found it beautiful,” She murmured, lip quivering. Kikyo’s eyes became hopeless.

“You see, my son inherited this weakness from me.”

She unscrewed the bottle, and spilled the alcohol all over her flowers. “Madame, what are you doing,” Gotoh asked, rushing to stop her. “Don’t,” the woman spat, darkly. “Don’t stop me.” She went over to the gazebo, grabbing at one of the decorative lanterns. Kikyo took out a candle, and tossed it into the bushes.

She watched, in despair, as her garden burst into flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall: beautiful. this is so beautif-
> 
> me, still fundamentally chaotic evil: _did you mean SUFFERING?_


	16. Repentance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illumi is forgiven.

In the evening, Silva arrived home.

Gotoh greeted him at the door. Often, if it was Gotoh, that meant that there was some news to be had. “Good evening, sir,” the butler began, bowing politely. Silva nodded in return.

There was a moment shared between them. The master of the house waited, knowing that something was lingering at the tip of the butler’s tongue. Gotoh spoke quietly. “The garden was destroyed, today. Set on fire.”

“What?” Silva asked, in alarm. He paced up the stairs, heading out to one of the balconies that overlooked the courtyard.

The man stared down at the garden, eyes wide at the sight.

There was none to be had. It was black, charred, burned to the last petal. He smelled the ash lingering in the grass and wood, and if Silva shut his eyes, he could imagine the heat of the inferno. “How could this happen?” He asked, incredulously. “Was there no one to put it out?” They’d hired so many servants, and yet no one caught on to the courtyard burning in flames?  

Gotoh shook his head. “Kikyo wouldn’t let us. She was standing right in the middle of it, and she…” The woman had screamed at anyone who tried to salvage the courtyard. Butlers and maids had surrounded the fire, putting out anything that looked like it would travel up to the estate, but the flowers themselves were left to burn.

“What are you saying? This is _her_ garden, she wouldn’t let this happen.”

Gotoh’s brow crinkled. “She started it. The fire, I mean. She has broken all of her records, as well.”

Silva looked back at him. The butler saw that the man had become frightened by this news. “What happened?” The alpha finally asked. “Is Kikyo alright?”

The butler hesitated, slowly shaking his head. “She isn’t. I do not know the extent of what happened, but I know that it involves Illumi, and the man named Hisoka.”

Silva’s expression warped in sudden anger.

“Hisoka?” He asked, feeling his blood begin to boil. “Are you _sure?”_ Gotoh nodded, silently. The man of the household looked at his butler’s somber form, and nodded. “I see, then. I will speak to Kikyo myself. Thank you, Gotoh.”

* * *

 

Silva arrived at his bedroom.

He saw, instantly, the small, sullen figure of his wife laying in the middle of their bed.

She was dressed in plain clothing. It was a black sweater, with black pants. Kikyo hadn’t worn something so colorless in years. He loomed over her, reaching out, and noticed that she was without her visor. “Kikyo,” Silva began, kneeling onto the bed.

The woman turned to face him. She had swollen, red eyes, and a miserable expression. Silva hadn’t seen her eyes in so long, that even seeing them the way they were now was a shock to him. She’d only started wearing the visor after Illumi was old enough to wander around the house by himself.

“Hello, dear,” the woman murmured back.

He slid onto the bed, drawing her into his embrace. Kikyo shut her eyes, letting her mate’s scent calm her.

“Kikyo, what happened? I’ve never seen you this way.”

Not once in his life had he seen her with a face fraught with despair. Even at 18, when she hated everything the world had to offer, she did not have this level of anguish.

It bothered him not only as an assassin, but as her mate.

Silva had introduced music to Kikyo. He’d allowed her to renovate the once plain courtyard into a garden. When she became enamored with japanese kimonos, or european gowns, he travelled with her to pick out her favorite dresses, from the countries of origin themselves.

But somehow, overnight, she seemed to have thrown it all away.

_Why?_

“Silva,” Kikyo began, head tucked under his chin. “Have you ever… have you…” Whatever she was trying to say, it was hard for her. The alpha waited, stroking her hair.

“I… lately, I’ve been wondering,” Kikyo began, trembling. “T-that, perhaps... I’m not the right omega for you, after all?” She was in pain. Silva sensed this, deep in his gut, and held her closer. “No, you’re the one for me,” he said with certainty.

The last time Kikyo had this crisis was over twenty years prior, when she’d felt completely out of place in his richly furnished home. At the time, Kikyo was still quite obviously a product of Meteor City, and she’d trained herself diligently to become the refined lady of the household that she needed to be. To earn the respect and command over her servants and children, Kikyo became a woman that she’d never thought she could emulate. Silva admired that about her.

He didn’t know what caused the destruction of the garden and studio, but he personally promised himself to rebuild it.

“But, it’s been twenty years…” she whispered.

“And?” If anything, that solidified their fate. 24 years later, and the man still found that there was no one else in this world for him.  
  
“And… I… I still can’t bear you a proper heir…”

He realized then, that they’d reached the root of the problem.

Silva could tell that it bothered her quietly. Illumi was an omega, and everyday it seemed more and more likely that Kalluto would follow suit. Milluki was a beta who would rather play games than properly run the family business. Killua was a shining star, an alpha who took after his father, and yet he’d run away from home.

And of course, there was Alluka. Silva remembered that when Alluka was born, Kikyo became fearful of having another child. She only had Kalluto so that Killua could help raise something that wasn’t cursed.

“You’ve given me Killua as our heir apparent, and plenty of other good sons,” he stated, with finality.

“But, I haven’t! I ju-, I don’t understand how my children can be this way, when they come from _us!”_

He smelled frustration in her scent.  

“What happened, with Illumi?” Silva asked.

Kikyo descended into a bitter silence. She laid there in his arms, not saying a word. He remembered then, that Hisoka was involved. “Kikyo? Is he… are they mated?” The woman shook her head. Silva gave a sigh of relief.

“He’s in love,” the omega muttered. “He’s in love with Hisoka. So in love, that he once again failed to complete a contract against that man.” Here, she looked up at her husband, tiredly. “He made a contract with Gon. If he could kill Hisoka while they were together, he’d take Killua home once and for all.”

“...And he didn’t?” Silva asked, with no small amount of annoyance. She shook her head.

It was hard to imagine that Illumi, of all people, would fail to bring back their son.

Illumi, their oldest child and the eldest brother, who served as an example for all of the children who came after him. Illumi, who was trusted to train each of his siblings, and had been given a special authority over a majority of the contracts.

“Did Hisoka coerce him?” If that was the case, Silva was going to kill him.

“No. This was his own decision. He just… decided to choose Hisoka over Killua.”

“He wouldn’t.”

Kikyo stared at him in pain.

“He did,” she affirmed, again. “He did. Illumi’s not the same.” She looked off, lost. “I thought I knew him, but I didn’t.” Kikyo tucked her head away, burying herself in Silva’s arms. Her next words were muffled against his clothes.

“I remember, before I married you… Someone told me I wouldn’t fit into the Zoldycks.”

“Who?” Silva snapped.

Kikyo shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore, it was just some acquaintance from decades ago.” She mustered up her voice, continuing. “I left them all behind, so that I could be with you. Do you think my son would do the same?”

“You really think Illumi would leave us for an alpha? He’s been upholding our business for ten years, at this point. He’s the most dedicated.”  
  
“I know.”

She closed her eyes. “Maybe this was fate,” Kikyo said, softly. “I’d always suspected, after Alluka…” The omega buried herself deeper, and whispered, “Maybe I just wasn’t meant to bear your children.”

He knew she was afraid. He’d known, when he’d first mated her, and she couldn’t get over the way that his father looked at her in disdain. But saying it out loud crushed her. It made the possibility real, too real. Kikyo Zoldyck gained a singular purpose when she was 18, and 24 years later, it had still not been fulfilled.

Her body could no longer fulfill it.

“What can I do?” She whispered. “Should we try again?” Silva shook his head. “No. You’ve had 5 children,” 3 of them happening successively, he noted, “And that’s enough.” Any more, and Kikyo would be risking her own life. “I don’t care if we don’t have an heir in this generation. I will be the head of the household for as long as it takes, even if it means I have to train my grandchildren to take over.”

“What grandchildren?” Kikyo asked, with a dead stare. “Do you think, after choosing Hisoka, Illumi would let us train his? Is Milluki going to have a stellar child? And Killua? Killua, who has run away? Where will his children be, I wonder?”

Silva’s frustration mounted. “There will be a way,” he insisted quietly.

“What way?”

He fell silent.

Even if his children and grandchildren proved to be unfit of the Zoldyck title, there was no solution to the matter. Silva could not find another woman. The thought of marrying someone else was an unacceptable, and physically unbearable thought.

Scent marking was permanent, after all.

Kikyo shut her eyes, feeling the weight of her alpha’s silence. “Silva,” she spoke. “If it has truly come down to Killua, and only Killua…” He looked at her grave expression.

“We can’t let Illumi speak to him. What happened to Illumi must not happen to Killua.”

* * *

 

The next day, Illumi saw Killua.

They were standing on a relatively crowded street, and the Zoldyck heir hadn’t noticed him. He was presumably hanging out with Gon, considering the somewhat sweet smell lingering on him. It was strange. Illumi didn’t think that Gon would smell like such, but he supposed he didn’t actually know the boy that well.

He felt out of place, looking at Killua down the street, seeing how unguarded the boy was. His little brother never wore that gleeful expression around him.

“Gooooon,” Killua called, waving the boy down. “C’mon, aren’t you taking me to meet Machi and Pakunoda today? Hurry up, we said we’d be there by 12.” Ah. So Killua was going to be introduced to Gon and Hisoka’s friends. Illumi had heard a lot about them the day before. In fact, he’d heard Hisoka speak of their contributions to the date, and everything else. He was glad they existed. Illumi had been certain that there was no way the jester could have come up with such extravagant plans on his own.

In a way, the assassin was grateful that they unknowingly saved his alpha’s life. Illumi wasn’t sure what would have happened, if the date had gone any other way.

He realized blankly that he’d unknowingly referred to Hisoka as ‘his alpha’.

 _Did I just-, We haven’t even mated, yet,_ Illumi scolded himself, cheeks red.

... _Yet?_ He realized, again. _Yet?!? Great, I’m already planning to mate the guy. Maybe I’ll buy some extra blankets and condoms while I’m at it. Or I can take a chapter from mom’s book and just get pregnant in the first month. I can’t believe it, I just went on my first date with him! Is this really what alpha and omega romances are like?_

Gon and Killua were staring at him while he was having his heated internal soliloquy.

Illumi’s thoughts furiously raced for a second more, until his instincts kicked in and he snapped his attentions back to reality. “Oh, shit,” he said, when he realized that the two kids were looking straight at him. Illumi felt his face turn into the human equivalent of a tomato.

_I can’t believe I was thinking about sex in front of Killua._

They looked at each other in total silence. Crowds maneuvered around them. 

Gon spoke first. “Hi,” he said, in a slightly wary tone. “How are you?”

“I-,” Illumi wasn’t sure how to respond to the boy. Where did they stand? Should he be hostile? Indifferent? Polite?

“I’m good,” he blurted. “Thanks.” Gon paused, really looking at him. The boy eventually smiled in response.

Killua looked at his brother like he’d just gotten shot. “What the fu-”

Illumi’s brain went on autopilot. For some reason, he felt too uncomfortable to face the two boys. He coughed. “I’m just going grocery shopping. Bye now.” The eldest brother turned around, pacing briskly away.

 _Am I running away?_ He asked himself, staring at the pavement ahead of him. _Does this constitute as running away?_

_Why am I running away?_

Killua watched his fading form, bewildered.

* * *

 

Later that day, Illumi heard a knock on his door.

“Hisoka?” The assassin asked, from the bathroom. He’d just finished an evening shower, having thoroughly conditioned his hair. Illumi wrapped his hair up in a bun, swiftly putting on some comfortable night clothes. “You can come in,” he called. “The door is unlocked.”

The door clicked open, and softly slid shut. Illumi’s eyes widened, realizing that he hadn’t heard the constant clicking of Hisoka’s heels. He whirled out of the bathroom, grabbing a needle from the counter-

It was Killua.

The Zoldyck heir stared up at his brother’s stiff form with wide eyes. “A-, a-, aniki?” Killua stuttered, backing up slightly.

Illumi felt his nerves relax. “Sorry,” he replied, adrenaline subsiding. “I thought you weren’t Hisoka. Well, you aren’t Hisoka. I thought it was Hisoka coming in, but then it wasn’t Hisoka, so I freaked out beca-”  
  
“I think I get it,” Killua interrupted, suddenly.

“Ok,” Illumi responded.

He felt painfully awkward. This was probably how uncomfortable it sounded when his mother was speaking to him in her gazebo.

He desperately fished for a line, any line, what did brothers say to each other that didn’t involve death threats?

“Um, how was your day?” Actually, Illumi had missed a more important line. “I mean, why are you here?” Was that too offensive? He amended it, just in case. “You can be here, of course. You’re my brother.” Illumi swallowed thickly.

Killua kept a wary stare on him. “My day was good,” the boy replied. They shared a long moment of silence.

“So… what groceries did you buy?” Killua asked. They were really running out of topics to cover.

“I…” He looked behind himself, and then realized, “I forgot.” _Shit._ Hisoka had actually eaten all of his snacks, too. How irritating.

“Snacks?” Killua asked. Illumi realized that he’d spoken out loud. He nodded, not trusting himself to respond properly anymore.

The boy coughed anxiously. “I have a chocobot stash. Do you…” he became exceedingly nervous. “Do you want some?”  

“You like chocobots?” Illumi asked. “I didn’t kn-...”

He fell into complete silence. The omega was hit with a very intense deja vu.

 _I_ _didn’t know._

The words rang in his ears, in his own voice and in his mother’s.

Illumi shut his eyes.

He opened them, and saw Killua still staring warily. The omega decided to try again. “I didn't know you like chocobots. What else do you like, Killua?” He asked. The boy’s eyes widened.

Perhaps that was too sudden, as well. He decided to share a bit about himself. “I actually really like the biscuits they give out on airplanes. I was planning to buy a few packs today.” Once, the assassin had to do several contracts in separate countries, and he’d gotten a bit addicted to airplane snacks because of it.

Killua began to soften.

The boy settled on Illumi’s bed, feet swinging on the edge. “Well, aside from chocobots…”

* * *

 

They talked for hours.

Illumi found out that not only did Killua like chocobots, he liked chocolate flavored cereal, frosted donuts, cookie dough ice cream, orange soda, and those awful energy drinks that Milluki stashed in the fridge (“You were the one stealing them?” Illumi had asked. The boy just smirked at him.)

In fact, Killua just about enjoyed every sweet thing under the sun. That was not the only thing Illumi had learned. He’d also found out that his brother’s favorite types of video games were RPGs and first person shooters. That night, Illumi also learned what RPGs and first person shooters were.

Killua’s favorite genre of music was rock.

What a rebel.

It wasn’t even an excusable kind of rock either, it was the angsty kind that depressed preteens listened to- Which in retrospect, the boy qualified as. Illumi had told him that, and Killua had looked away in petulance. (“You wouldn’t understand,” the boy muttered, annoyed. Illumi laughed. “What, the despairing, lyrical sufferings of Breaking Benj-” _“Shhh!!!”_ )

The eldest Zoldyck could not remember a time in which his younger brother spoke to him so freely.

The conversation continued on, and Killua began to describe his adventures with Gon. It had been 3 in the morning by then, and they’d exhausted all topics of their interests.

He’d begun at the hunter exam.

They both quietly agreed to ignore how that exam had ended.

“I remember being bored, honestly,” Killua remarked. They were laid out on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t really know what to do, once I left the house. I just wanted to try the exam because people kept saying that it was super hard.” A typical alpha, searching for a challenge. Illumi smiled in amusement. 

“And we were at the running stage of the exam. Everything up until that point was easy, too easy. I was feeling a little arrogant, at that point.” Killua laughed, sticking out his tongue. His scent smelled a tad sweeter. “And then I met Gon. He was out there, running, and he looked around the same age as me so we hit it off. I decided to stick with him.”

Clearly.

“And then I met L… Lioreo? Ah, Leorio, and Kurapika!” Illumi snorted. The extras, he supposed. “Ok, I always forget Leorio’s name. It’s just… really forgettable, ok? But he’s actually a pretty cool guy. He’s just grubby, and looks like a 40 year old.”

“...Looks like?” As in, he _wasn’t?_

“Yeah, he’s like, 19 or something.”

Illumi stared at his brother with wide eyes. “...What? Are we talking about the same person?” He asked, incredulously. Killua burst into laughter. “I know!” The boy chortled in amusement, “He’s so freaky! But either way, we were all together, and we sort of just hung out with each other for the rest of the exam.” Illumi nodded, remembering.

“And I guess you know how that exam went… but I had a lot of fun, sticking with Gon.” Killua smiled fondly. His scent sweetened even more when he talked about his friends.

Illumi realized, suddenly, that it wasn’t Gon’s scent lingering on Killua. It was merely the young alpha’s distinct smell, strengthening with his friendships.

The realization was unsettling. 

How could it be that it took 12 years for him to recognize his own brother’s scent?

Illumi glanced at Killua’s soft expression, and knew that the sweet scent emanating from the boy was truly his own. _What have I been smelling all this time?_ The assassin wondered, quietly.

 _Fear,_ a part of his mind supplied.

He shut his eyes.

“...Aniki?” Killua whispered. “Are you tired? We can stop.”

Illumi shook his head. “Keep going,” he murmured, turning to his brother. It took a bit of bravery, but Illumi decided to open a particular conversation between them. “Actually…” the assassin began, “Killu, why did you want to be friends with Gon?” There were so many people to choose from, but Killua had gravitated towards that boy.

The younger brother smiled at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“So, there _was_ a particular reason?”

Killua nodded. He settled into silence for a second, formulating his thoughts. After a few moments, the younger brother began. “I took the hunter exam to prove that I could do it,” he restated. Illumi nodded. “Not just that I could do it… but that it was easy.”

The boy sighed. “It was easy. Everything, from beginning, to…” Killua didn’t finish.

Illumi felt something weigh down in his stomach. Guilt, perhaps.

“It was easy, because I’d been trained to deal with worse things. Nothing was really challenging, but… But somehow, every time I thought I’d proved myself, Gon seemed to come out on top.” Killua, naturally, was fiercely competitive. It was a common trait in alphas, though Illumi and Silva had once tried to tone it down in order to instill a more cautious behavior. 

“Up until the end, when Netero organized the tournament, Gon was given more chances than me.” The boy admitted it with an indignant look.

Killua turned away, as though he was embarrassed to admit the words. “I was starting to get jealous, honestly. I kept wondering, what does Gon have that I’m missing? I'm stronger, faster, more skilled, more experienced…” He was a Zoldyck, trained to the very peak of strength and human capability.

“And it really started to drive me crazy. Gon wasn’t special in any way. Actually, he was pretty weak back then, and his only real advantage was that he _seriously_ never gave up. But still, I’d trained so hard, and to think that Gon had somehow bested me...”

“You were angry,” Illumi stated. “You spent so much of your life suffering, but it all paled in comparison to him.”

 _“Yes,”_ Killua sighed emphatically. “All that training felt cheap, somehow! Because I still wasn’t good enough. How did you know?”

Illumi looked carefully at the boy. He had hardly ever admitted it to himself, and he wasn’t sure if he could manage to say it to Killua. But, if he didn’t say it now, he’d never get the chance.

“I felt the same way, once.”

The younger brother looked at him curiously. “You _did?”_

Illumi nodded, shutting his eyes. “I did. You’re lucky, Killua. Your suffering has an end result. Mine didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

He exhaled, softly. Illumi turned back up to face the ceiling, and he mustered up the will to speak. “I mean that one day, you will inherit the Zoldyck estate for all of your troubles.” Killua frowned. “But I don’t even want it,” he muttered, in response.

Illumi laughed. “I know,” he replied. “But…”

“Just for an instance, imagine.”

The boy nodded, waiting.

“Imagine, being trained singularly by mother, father, and grandfather.” Killua imagined it. It was decidedly terrible. Illumi continued on, “That’s what they did, when I was born. I don’t remember a single day going by where I got a break. They sculpted a perfect assassin out of me.” The boy stared at him with a troubled look.

“They sharpened me from birth, because I was their first son. Back then, it felt like the future tipped on whether or not I was an ideal Zoldyck. I felt important.”

Killua frowned, softly. He began to understand where the monologue was heading.

Illumi smiled ruefully, staring at nothing at all. “And suddenly, I was 12 years old. They realized that I was an omega.”

He smirked wryly at his younger brother. “All that pain, and I didn’t matter at all. Our parents decided, then, to have several children. Just in case.” Thus, he gained many younger siblings. “I was hurt, back then. I wondered to myself, what was all that training for? The torture?”

Ultimately, it was for nothing.

He’d realized, somewhere in his heart. He’d realized, but the realization hurt him, so he ignored it. The first 12 years of Illumi’s life might as well have been an accident. “I asked one day, and mother struggled to answer me. She eventually told me that it was so I could pass it on to my siblings.”

Killua fell silent. Disappointment was etched into his eyes.

Illumi looked away, partly in shame. “I took her words very seriously. I think if I didn’t, I would have gone insane.” So instead, he’d convinced himself that he had been righteously trained, for the sake of passing down these principles to the true Zoldyck heir. And to fuel his own fire, he’d called it love.

The older brother stopped, then. He didn’t know how the boy would react. Killua had every right to be furious with him, to curse him, even.

But his younger brother took him by surprise. “I’m sorry,” the boy murmured. “I didn’t know it was like that for you. If that happened to me, I… I’d be so angry.”

Illumi swallowed thickly, looking at the boy. “Don’t say that,” he muttered. “I don’t deserve to hear it.” He truly didn’t. He didn’t, because after all these years, he’d realized who had been holding Killua back.

Illumi was beginning to tire of Gon being right.

“You said, you felt you were missing something?” He asked, softly.

Killua nodded. The boy searched for the right words to explain. “Something crucial. I want to be with Gon, because I don’t think there’s any other way I’ll find this missing part of me.”

Illumi knew, then, that if Killua had found that part, he would have been able to pass the hunter exam. If Killua had found that part, he’d be able to stand by Gon’s side, instead of in the boy’s shadow.

Illumi’s hands began to tremble.

He had the answer. He knew that he had the answer that his brother was desperately searching for.

“I’m sorry, Killua,” the omega said, earnestly. He turned to face his younger sibling, hand rising towards the boy’s head. Killua stared back at him in confusion. “Aniki?”

“I’m sorry,” Illumi murmured, ruffling his brother's hair. “I’m sorry,” he repeated again, because he was afraid of how Killua would react, once the boy knew the truth. He didn’t know if this was going to be the last time he ever spoke to his younger brother, but he was happy that he’d gotten to speak to him at all.

Killua looked at him, worriedly. “Why are you…”

Illumi found it. With delicate fingers, he slowly pulled out the needle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fckin shit this chapter is 4,415 words long. It's officially the longest chapter. I have literally been waiting since chapter 1 to write this scene. 
> 
> So, did anybody order an Illumi redemption arc? Because here it is, bitches.
> 
> Just a side note, Kikyo and Silva have a very close relationship in my fic, because they too are affected by the omegaverse. This is what a mated couple looks like, regardless of the murderous occupations.


	17. Side by Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendship rears its splendid head.

Killua stared at the needle in his hand.

Illumi turned to the side, setting it on the nightstand. The metal clinked softly, and his nen dissipated from the object, rendering it innocuous. He sat up, facing away from his younger brother.

“Aniki?” The boy asked, finally. “What was that?”

The assassin stared down at his own hands. From here, they seemed so much less powerful. _There is no turning back from any of this,_ he thought, to himself.

“It was…” He searched for the words. Killua waited, breathing softly. “...The source. The way I, and by extension, father, would track you down, no matter where you were, and make sure you adhered to our principles. Father only let you leave because he was certain of my control.”

The head of the Zoldyck household was a man who only operated under absolute terms, and if he wasn’t sure of a matter, he would not allow it to slide past him.  
  
“But… He made me promise, not to betray my friends, he said I could leave with Go-”  
  
“I know,” Illumi responded.

Killua didn’t speak. The older brother turned his head down, staring hollowly at the ground. “Most likely,” he explained, “That was issued as a challenge, in order to force you back home when you inevitably failed... I did something similar, remember?” It was essentially the same method Illumi had used in the hunter exam, just less direct.

It was less direct so that Killua would be utterly convinced of his own drawbacks, his own _nature,_ when he did fail to keep the promise.

Silva had taught Illumi psychological warfare.

“He… He lied.”

The assassin nodded, not knowing if Killua saw it. “Father is a liar,” he replied. Silva had taught him how to do that, too. Illumi paused, and added, “Or rather, he will say and do absolutely anything to achieve an outcome.”

There was a sort of lawlessness to Silva, a trait that even Zeno did not possess. It was most likely what enabled his father to become enamored with his mother in the first place. They were both quite cold individuals, now that Illumi thought about it.

The eldest brother continued on. “The needle was our failsafe. Now that I’ve removed it, I don’t know how our parents will react." He only knew that they would not be pleased. "I would rather they not know, but I… I sense that Silva will be able to tell immediately. You should avoid letting him find out.”

It was not just because of his father’s experience and intuition. It was because as they spoke, Killua’s scent had already begun to change.

It was profound, how a single needle in the brain could warp so much in a human. He was sure that if he turned around and looked the boy in the eye, he would not recognize what he saw.

Illumi felt that he was truly experiencing his little brother for the first time, as his little brother was meant to be. There wasn’t a single line of interference between them, and for that, the assassin could not find it within himself to regret. Even if this action led to turmoil- if Killua never spoke to him, if Silva accused him, if he was alienated from the rest of his family-… he could not regret.

“Is this… Are you letting me go?” Killua asked.

“Yes,” Illumi answered, simply.

“And, if I, if I told you I never wanted to go back, would you stop m-”

“No.”

And he meant it.

The omega found, within himself, no urge to rush his brother back to the Zoldyck estate. Before, it was a persistent goal, nagging at the back of his mind, but now… It was gone. The assassin supposed it was because he, too, felt no inclination of returning. He was happy, and he knew that Killua was happy, as well. Illumi didn’t have the heart to take that happiness away.

There was a silent pause between them. The assassin felt the need to explain himself, no matter how meager of an explanation. “I understand, if you don’t want to see me again. I just feel that… That I’m finally understanding what the right course of action is, and I know that I’m 12 years too late for you, but if I didn’t do this now, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to get the chance, and I wanted to- I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to really, earnestly talk to you, befo-”

Killua shuffled over, from the other side of the bed, and hugged Illumi from behind.

The assassin fell silent. He stared down his own torso, looking at the two little arms encasing him.

His back felt wet. Illumi realized that Killua had been crying.

_“Can’t you see how hard he’s cried? Have you even thought to comfort him?”_

His mind rang with the memory- _Who said that?-_ Killua’s teacher, he remembered suddenly. Killua’s teacher had told him that just weeks before, and the assassin had nearly killed the man in response. He thanked some deity out there that he didn’t get the chance to.

But that was then, and this was now. This was the moment to do things right. This would be his only chance, so Illumi went against everything he learned, turned around, and comforted his brother.

He swallowed thickly, searching for the words. There wasn't a time in his life where he'd seen a Zoldyck soothe someone. Illumi turned, instead, to the displays of soft affection that he'd distantly witnessed, wishing that he'd paid more attention. “It’s okay,” he murmured, holding the boy, even though the words felt alien on his lips. He pat his brother's head, repeating the phrase, even though he did not know what made Killua cry, or whether or not it would truly be okay. Despite this, Illumi didn't feel as though he was lying, nor did his words seem meaningless.

His brother gripped him more tightly, sobbing harder than ever.

 _He’s holding onto me,_ Illumi realized.

“It’s alright,” the omega assured, again. They sank back onto the bed. He wondered, then, if this was the first time his brother had turned to his embrace. It didn’t take much thought to know the answer.  
  
After a moment, Killua spoke, mumbling through his own tears. “I… I don’- I don’t know why I’m crying so h-hard,” he hiccupped, tucking his face in Illumi’s shirt in embarrassment. “It’s j-just, my head hurts, but I feel glad, too, a-and-...”

“The needle attempts to bar most of your emotions,” Illumi explained, because there was not much else he could do. “Especially expressions of sadness and pain. It could be that you are releasing pent up frustration, or the effect of taking out the needle was emotionally overwhelming, or perhaps, this night was overwhelming in general…”

Killua nodded, still sniffling. He coughed a little, waiting until he could speak. After a moment, he quietly asked, “Do you ever cry? I- I’ve… I’ve always wondered.”

“I cried last week,” Illumi stated. “Right over there,” He pointed to the door behind him. “I was on the floor and everything.”

The boy looked up at him in shock, face still red and messy. “You… what? _Really?”_

The assassin found his own predictions to be right. His brother’s eyes, along with his scent, had changed. Killua’s soul had become nearly tangible. It was a sight that compelled him to speak more, so that he could hold onto this vulnerable moment with his brother.

“Yeah. I was finishing my date with Hisoka, thinking for sure that I was going to kill him. I had to do it, and I was going to exploit his one clear weakness,” Illumi smiled a little, here, “Me.” Killua looked at him in wonder.

“Then?” The boy asked.

“Well, I obviously failed. We kissed, but I was too happy about the date to kill the guy, so instead I shut the door on him and cried about it. I dropped right to the ground, listening to him leave… it was really quite dramatic.”

The boy stared at him, bewildered at the thought of such a scene. Illumi smiled, and quipped, “Don’t tell him any of this, though. It’ll blow up his ego, and he’ll start kissing me all the time.” And they both knew that the last thing Hisoka needed was an ego boost.

Killua broke into a grin. He wiped away at his own tears, and began to laugh.

* * *

 

It was 12 in the afternoon.

Hisoka had been playing cards with Gon for hours, spending most of his morning with the boy. They were building towers with nen.

“You see, as a Transmuter, I can change the properties of my nen, which enables me to give these cards different weights, textures, and even adhesiveness, so this is actually my personal Hatsu practice.” The jester could almost pass as a teacher.

“Oooh,” Gon hummed, quite impressed. He raised a hand, delicately poking at the card tower. Despite its fragile appearance, it didn’t budge.

“That’s so cool!”

Hisoka smiled, distinctly pleased with himself. “I know~.”

“What nen type do you think I am?” Gon asked, curiously.

“Oh, Enhancer for sure. I’ll be surprised if it’s anything else,” the jester waved his hand dismissively. Gon gave him a blank stare. “Why an Enhancer? What are they like?”

“Well~, I like to think I can pinpoint nen by someone’s personality, though who knows how accurate that really is… Enhancers tend to be pretty straightforward.” Gon certainly fell under that category. He was so intent on things, he might as well have a chronic case of tunnel vision. “We’d also be next to each other in terms of aura categories, Gon~. We could be good friends,” Hisoka remarked, smiling at him.

“We’re already good friends,” the boy stated in return. “Maybe I am an Enhancer, then! I can’t wait to find out! I should ask Wing-san.” Gon sat up eagerly. “I want to know Killua’s nen type too… I wonder if he’s doing alright with Illumi.”

They’d been waiting, since Killua had decided to visit his older brother the night before.

Gon had spoken to him about his older brother, along with Machi and Pakunoda. They were fairly certain of Illumi’s change. The younger Zoldyck, having seen the strangeness of the omega that day, decided to seek him out. It was against his own better judgement, but Killua ultimately settled on trusting his friends.

“Do you think we should check up on them? Killua said he’d text me when he left, but it looks like he still hasn’t left,” Gon stated, with a tinge of concern. His friend hadn’t actually texted him since the other day. That could have been a good sign, or a very bad one.

“I suppose enough time has passed…”

So they decided to head down to Illumi’s apartment.

* * *

 

When the two arrived, they found the brothers sleeping quite peacefully.

“Should we wake them up?” Hisoka asked.

Gon jumped on the bed, screaming, “GOOD MORNING!”

The other two fell off the bed, utterly disheveled, looking at him with bewildered expressions. “Jesus _Christ_ Gon! I told you to stop doing that!” Killua yelled, gripping his own chest in terror. The other boy grinned back.

“Hi, Killua! Ah-” the green-haired boy sniffed the air, “-You smell different.”

 _A genuine dog,_ the other three thought.

“I’m…” Killua paused, brain still fuzzy. He did not have the energy, nor the words, to explain the entire night. “Yeah, I think it’s my real scent. Who knows.” He shrugged it off, rubbing at his bleary eyes. Gon looked over at Illumi, who was most certainly the cause of this development.

They stared at each other. The assassin looked tired, and painfully awkward. Most likely, it was their shared negative history, coming back to haunt the man. Gon decided then, to cut the problem at the root.

“Hi Illumi! Wanna hang out with us today?”

The assassin blinked. “I…” he began, hesitantly. “I can?- I mean, sure. Of course.” Hisoka walked over, lifting him up from the floor. “Of course you can," the alpha murmured. "We've been waiting all morning for you two. Do you have any snacks left, by the way~? I’m getting kind of hungry…”

Illumi rolled his eyes, relaxing a little. _“You_ ate all my biscuits the other day.” Hisoka pouted. “I still need to buy more, mind you.” Killua smiled then, energy returning. “Then... Let’s all go to a supermarket and buy snacks!” He suggested, with no small amount of eagerness. It was the boy’s favorite pastime.

“Ah! Killua!” Gon blurted suddenly. “We have adults now! We can watch that movie!”

“What?” Illumi asked. Was Gon trying to take them to a raunchy film?  
  
“We’ve been trying to watch this new action movie but the theater won’t let us into it cause we’re too young,” the boy explained, “But now that we have you guys, they can’t give us any excuses!” They'd tried to appeal to Pakunoda and Machi, but neither of the women were interested in the plot. Machi wouldn't admit it, but Gon suspected she was a sucker for romance films.

In retrospect, it was a little ridiculous, that a 200-level Heaven’s Arena fighter and a pro-hunter would be barred from a simple action movie. One would think that they long discarded the title of ‘child’.

“Ok~,” Hisoka affirmed, clapping his hands. “Snack-shopping and a movie. That sounds fun. Come on, Illumi, get ready, so I can buy you some more biscuits.” He said it with a small, apologetic smile.

* * *

 

They went to the movie theaters, playing the fun game of ‘How many snacks can I get away with hiding in my clothes?’

Hisoka had won easily, though it wasn’t very fair when his nen let him stick and hide objects to himself as he pleased.

“That’s how your nen works?” Gon asked, incredulously. “No wonder you’re so good at magic tricks!” The movie hadn't started yet, but he was already munching on chocolate bars with Killua.

“Yes~, my Bungee Gum and Texture Surprise are quite versatile,” the jester stated, proudly. Illumi snorted. He’d known the alpha for quite a long time, but not once had the man ever tired of bragging about the clever qualities of his nen.

“But… It kinda sucks now. I feel like your magic tricks are less impressive when I know what the trick is,” Gon admitted, with a small frown. The jester was stricken by the words. “Gon… That’s mean. I worked very hard on my nen, you know~?”

“Wait,” Killua said, suddenly. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be fighting each other at some point? Is it ok for Gon to know how your nen works?”

Gon and Hisoka shared a blank look.

“Ah,” the green-haired boy said, remembering.

“I…” He pulled out the badge of their promise, staring at the bold, black 44.

“Uh…”

Illumi laughed at them. “Clearly, that was forgotten,” he said in amusement. After all the stink Hisoka had put up about it, making sure Gon would stay alive just to fight him. He supposed that he wasn’t the only person who’d changed.

“Are you guys still gonna…” Killua pointed at the badge. “You know, Gon’s pride was on the line and shit. He was so dramatic about it, he wouldn’t even use his hunter license until he gave you your badge back.” The other boy turned red at the words, laughing nervously.

“What badge?” Hisoka asked.

Suddenly, there was nothing at all in Gon’s hands.

The boy blinked abruptly at his empty palm. “Woah! Hisoka, that was so fast! How did you-?”  
  
“Me~? I didn’t do anything. Whoops, my phone is buzzing, I’m gonna go check that out before the movie starts.” He got up from his seat, waddling out of the aisle. They watched as he clearly threw something out in the trash.

Killua narrowed his eyes. “He totally just threw the badge aw-”

“There was a badge?” Illumi asked, now smiling. Gon followed his example swiftly. “It’s dark in the theater, Killua! Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you.” The boy grinned, speaking with an obviously fake tone. The younger Zoldyck rolled his eyes. “Don’t lie, Gon. You’re really bad at it.”

* * *

 

Hisoka stared down at his notifications. While the disappearing badge act had been a shameless lie, his phone had indeed gotten a message. He hadn’t wanted to answer it until after their hangout ended, but at the same time, it didn’t seem wise to keep a man like Silva Zoldyck waiting.  

Especially considering the fact that this man might one day become his father in law.

It was a bit embarrassing, as he could still see his own (admittedly) stupid text lingering in their chat history, and it became clear that Silva was blatantly ignoring the existence of that conversation. This time, the man spoke in a bland, diplomatic tone:

_I’ve heard a lot about you from my wife, Kikyo. Illumi seems to have genuinely taken an interest in you, and I would like for us to speak amicably on the matter._

_Do you have time for a phone call? I’d prefer if we spoke about a possible meeting time, rather than conversed over text._

The jester hummed to himself, leaning on a nearby wall. He had roughly 5 minutes before the movie started. With that in mind, he settled on a polite response, choosing his words carefully.

_I can call later tonight, if that’s alright. If not, then, perhaps tomorrow morning?_

It was quite possibly the most civil tone he’d ever used in text. Machi would be impressed.

Hisoka wandered back into the theater room, hoping that he could start anew with Silva, just as he had with Gon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall, experienced: where's the angst. where is it. _where's the fcking sufferi-_
> 
> me: Nani the fck? Why ever would I write angst? This is a comedy. Everyone is happy.


	18. to Know and Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illumi and Hisoka learn and grow.

_Tonight,_ was Silva's response.

Hisoka had finished the movie, glancing very briefly at the answer. He decided not to speak of it to the others, while everyone was focused on other, more trivial matters. So it became the case that Hisoka was in the comfort of his own room, having dropped off Gon and Killua in their apartment, and having given Illumi a goodnight kiss (or twelve). Now that he’d settled down, the jester peered at his phone, screen ticking away the time.

It was 11:09 PM.

He felt, distinctly, that this was probably the feeling someone had, just before entering a job interview.

It became 11:12, and Hisoka decided that if he waited any longer, he’d lose his window of chance. So, he clicked call.

The phone rang only once, and the call was picked up. The jester momentarily wondered if Silva had spent the night lurking in front of his own phone. _“Hello?”_ a man asked, presumably Illumi’s father. “Hi,” Hisoka answered back. He had to personally fight down his own drawled accent. “This is-”

_“Hisoka, yes?”_

“...Yes.”

 _“Great,”_ the man answered, with very little enthusiasm. _“I’m glad I got the chance to speak to you.”_ His voice was gruff and delivered no discernable emotion. Hisoka found that interesting, as Illumi’s voice tended to dip and sing into playful drawls, whether or not the assassin himself noticed it.

 _“I believe this conversation will only take a few minutes, as I simply want to clarify some matters.”_ Now, this wasn’t to say that the jester had a lot of experience writing business emails, but he reckoned that this was probably how they generally sounded.

 _“Hisoka, as I mentioned earlier, I would like to discuss with you about the recent events involving your…”_ Here, Silva paused.

_“Your… relations, with my son.”_

The jester made a nonchalant noise. “Sure,” he answered back.

With that, Silva continued. _“It comes to my attention that Illumi has developed feelings for you. Because it is a nonexistent event that Illumi has shown interest in anyone, I would like to take you seriously.”_

For some reason, these words only made Hisoka feel more tense.

 _“What I am saying, is, I’d like to meet you sometime this month, and really get to know you. I’m afraid that Illumi doesn’t mention much about his personal life,”_ most likely because the omega hardly had one until now, _“And as his father, I want to be more... involved, in these important developments.”_ Silva spoke with a hint of genuine consideration this time.

“That’s… reasonable,” the jester responded. Not that he had much experience knowing what a reasonable father’s reaction was, either.

 _“Yes. You haven’t said much in this conversation.”_ Hisoka blinked. _What am I supposed to say?_ He wondered.

 _“Well,”_ Silva continued, anyway. _“No matter. We’ll be speaking face-to-face soon. Though, I would like to ask you, one more time…”_

Here, the man’s tone adopted a sort of severity.

_“Do you plan on mating my son?”_

Silence. 

The phone crackled with static. The jester stared out to the ceiling, registering the question. 

He had a mental flashback to his own initial response. Hisoka felt himself bodily cringe, and then pondered his own visceral reaction. “I… Uh, yes,” he coughed, answering quickly. “In the privacy of his own room, of course,” the jester elaborated, feeling his own cheeks tinge. _Am I-, Is this-,_ he touched his own face, feeling the heat under his fingertips. _Fascinating._

Hisoka heard the man chuckle, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. _“Alright. Do you have any time to meet me next week?”_

The jester had literally nothing better to do, aside from hang out with his new assortment of friends (and boyfriend). “Yeah, I suppose~.” _Shit._ Hisoka cleared his throat and returned to a formal tone. “I mean, I can meet any day next week.”

_“Good. Let’s try for next Wednesday. I have a job to complete nearby, anyway.”_

“Ok. See you then,” Hisoka answered back, about to hang up.

 _“Also,”_ Silva interrupted.

The jester held his phone back up to his ear. “Yes?” He asked, now somewhat anxious to leave the call.  _“Please, don’t tell Illumi about this meeting. This is his first time being in a relationship, and I wouldn’t want him to feel intimidated by my presence.”_  
  
“...Sure,” the jester replied.

_“Thank you. I’m glad you recognize how important all of this is to me. I’ll come by next Wednesday, then.”_

* * *

 

The next day found Hisoka lounging in Illumi’s bed.

He'd gotten quite comfortable, snacking on a pack of the omega's biscuits, and texting Machi about how to speak to people formally. He noted that she had become quite patient with him. It was an intriguing dynamic, one that they’d never had before.

“Hisoka,” Illumi called from the bathroom. “You better not finish my snacks again. You literally bought them yesterday.” He was combing some sort of lotion through his hair. Apparently it was good for split-end repair, which was a problem Illumi didn’t have.

“I’ll buy more,” Hisoka mumbled, mouth full of biscuit. He texted, nails clicking on the screen, _Machi???? How would I hypothetically treat my in-laws, if I ever met them?_

Illumi walked out of the bathroom, hair neatly combed. He looked over at the jester, whose cheeks were stuffed. “What are you doing?” he asked, smiling at the sight. The assassin leaned over, peeking at the phone. Hisoka closed out quickly, opening another conversation he'd had with Killua. The boy had sent him a meme.

“What is this?”

Hisoka shrugged, chuckling. “Deep-fried memes,” he answered, as though that explained anything. Illumi looked at him, brow raised.

He typed _lit lmao_ back.

“Lit?” The assassin asked.

“Oh, it's like… Cool. Hype. I don't know.”

“...Hype?”

“You know~, something funny, or exciting… Killua taught me a lot of slang last night.” He scrolled back up the texts, showing Illumi the first text he'd gotten from the boy. It was sent at 3:19 AM. There was a picture of some horror movie clown, and Killua had texted _thought about u lol._

Illumi smirked. “That's kind of funny, actually.”

Hisoka looked at him with full offense. “I'm not a clown, though,” he muttered indignantly. Illumi scrolled down the texts, still smirking. There were literally dozens of memes, and Killua had explained term after term to the jester.

The boy was virtually incoherent on text. “Yeet?” Illumi whispered, under his breath. Hisoka laughed.

That was only the beginning of the assassin's confusion. “Why is he adding B's to everything? Why does he call you a ‘thot’? Why does he keep saying 'bruh, I'm weak’?” The omega frowned, murmuring, “He's not weak…”

The jester chuckled in amusement. “Yeah, it took a bit of getting used to. I think Killua was having fun though.” Part of him suspected that the boy enjoyed unloading all of this ridiculous information onto him. They’d talked until 7 in the morning.

Illumi finished scrolling, and gave him the phone. “I’m glad everyone’s getting along. Though I didn’t know Killua was like this.” Whatever ‘this’ was.

“Yeah, he has an Insta where he posts all this stuff. Apparently he has 70,000 followers.”

_“What?”_

“You know, Instagram. Killua made one for the hell of it, but it got popular because he’s famous from Heaven’s Arena. I was pretty surprised when he mentioned it.” Hisoka opened up the app, showing Illumi the page. The profile was an extremely blurry picture of Killua, and the only statement was BEGONE, THOT, in bold. It did indeed have 70,000 followers.

“What the hell is this,” Illumi muttered, looking at what could possibly be hundreds of deep-fried memes.

“I don’t know,” Hisoka shrugged, chuckling at one of the posts. He tapped it, and a heart popped up. “I’m starting to find them funny. I actually made an account to follow him,” or rather, Killua had insisted he make an account, “Maybe I should start posting things, too...” He showed his own profile. His account name was Dark Magician. The profile had a picture of a Bungee Gum wrapper.

“... _Dark_ Magician?” Illumi asked, brow raised. “More like neon pink clown.”

“Illuuumi,” the jester whined. “I told you, I’m not a clown. In fact,” here, his tone adopted something more like eager recollection, “Dark Magician is from a series that I saw when I was a kid.”

For someone who didn't dwell too much on the past, Hisoka sure liked to fixate on his childhood obsessions.

“I thought he was cool, and he made me want to learn magic tricks. Thus… I became a magician,” the jester finished, smiling eagerly. He showed the omega a picture of the character.

Illumi supposed that if this was his inspiration, there was no surprise that he insisted on being called a ‘jester’ or a ‘magician’. From what he gathered, the character seemed like a strange combination of both, but more emo. “So, is this a card game or something?”  

Hisoka nodded. “Yeah, but I never got to buy them. I settled with regular playing cards.” Not to mention, he would actually need an opponent in order to play that game. Unfortunately, Hisoka had no friends.

“You’re a nerd,” the omega stated, shaking his head. This was something Milluki would be into. “You’re such a nerd. I can’t believe it.”

Hisoka pouted. “You’re dating me, you know~?”

“... I know,” Illumi said, settling into the bed. He grabbed the pack of biscuits and began to munch on them.

Hisoka’s phone vibrated suddenly, and a text from Machi popped up. He looked over again, but the jester didn’t open it. “What’d she say?” Illumi asked, head tilted.

“Eeeh~… I don’t know, we were just talking about life,” Hisoka answered, cryptically. “I ask for advice sometimes, and she’s pretty good at giving it.”

“Ah. That's nice,” Illumi answered.

“Yeah. Either way,” the alpha decided to shift the topic. “I got into cards after seeing that show. And I started learning all kinds of simple tricks.” He whipped out a card from his pocket. Hisoka displayed it in his hand, but after a quick flash, it disappeared.

“Tah-dah~,” he said, with a flourish.

“Impressive,” Illumi responded, with small claps. “Isn't it just between your fingers though?”

Hisoka pursed his lips.

“It's not really magic, then,” the assassin continued.

“Illumi~, that's why they're called _tricks~.”_ He tucked the card back into his pocket, pouting again. “Now that I think of it…” The jester narrowed his eyes.

“I feel like we've had this _exact_ conversation before.”

The assassin furrowed his brows, settling into thought. They’d had hundreds of conversations, but Illumi would have remembered something as nerdy as Dark Magician. “We did?” He asked, with a small frown. “No, we didn't, I've never…” He drifted off. “I've…”

Illumi scrounged up his own memories. Now that he'd had a moment to recall, he did remember this one conversation…

“You forgot?” Hisoka asked, mildly offended, as though he himself hadn't forgotten as well. “Do you remember our conversations?” They’d had plenty, within the last few months.

Illumi coughed nervously.

In truth, he'd actively avoided conversing with Hisoka for personal reasons. When he did converse, he hardly had the mentality to focus on what was being said.

In the months leading up to their relationship, Illumi found that he couldn't handle speaking to the jester about any topics he was enthusiastic towards. Hisoka, who already exercised no conscious control over his own scent, would only intensify in smell when pouring over topics like nen, games, cards, snacks, fighting, his latest opponents… It got to the point of distraction.

His scent was quite overpowering. Illumi had earnestly tried to feign nonchalance, but most of their meetings ended with him finding excuses to leave.

He explained this to the man.

Hisoka looked at him like he’d revealed something incredible. “Is _that_ why you always looked so anxious?”

“I… I did?”  
  
“Yeah! I was trying so hard to figure it out. At some point, you wouldn’t be able to look me in the eye. You’d get all nervous and try to leave.” Hisoka sank back into the pillow, smiling blankly at the memories. “I had no idea what happened, every time. I didn’t think the reason would be so cute.”

Illumi sighed. “Did you keep talking to me just for the sake of finding out why?” It sounded like something Hisoka would do.

“Well, yeah,” the jester answered. “You try so hard to hide your reactions… So I was intrigued.” In retrospect, if he’d just asked Machi about it, the woman would have probably been able to tell him why Illumi reacted the way he did. Unfortunately, they weren’t that close back then.

Illumi found, to his own surprise, that he had no annoyance in himself. He was simply curious. “Hisoka, why did you want to figure me out?” He asked. The omega knew that the jester had an uncontrollable desire to pick apart people’s motives, but he usually didn’t go about such a friendly approach. He supposed that it was a stroke of luck that Hisoka merely desired to talk to him.

“Because…” The jester paused.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, before," he admitted. "You didn’t hate me, you never felt like fighting me, but all of a sudden you’d gotten so flustered by my presence…” Illumi snorted at the words. Of course, in Hisoka’s book, the only reason to be flustered was out of negative emotions. “I never saw you do that to anyone else… So I was curious.” The jester turned back, smiling coyly. “And I told you before, I kind of liked it.”

Hisoka stared at him with an open expression. Illumi looked on in wonder. “You know," the jester continued, almost wistful. "Nobody actually talks to me. But when you talked to me, it was like some part of you wanted to leave, and yet, some part of you wanted to stay. I was trying to find out why.”

 _He was lonely,_ Illumi thought, suddenly. _I must have been the first person he spent so much time with._

_Fighting was his only interaction with people. That’s why he needed it._

The realization dawned on him with a vague pain.

The omega turned towards the man, now listening intently. “Hisoka?” He asked, with a newfound desire. “Tell me about your nen.” It was, after all, the jester’s proudest subject. Most likely because it was his way of communicating his own soul to others; his only way, at that.

Illumi found it strangely poetic.

The alpha turned to him, grinning eagerly. “My nen? We’ve talked about that plenty of times… Though I suppose you didn’t really retain any of that information, apparently.”

“I forgot,” Illumi stated, apologetically. “I won’t forget anymore,” he promised.

Hisoka smiled, reeling him into a cuddle. “Weeeeeell…”

* * *

 

It was Killua who had suggested nen practice. He didn’t mean regular nen practice, between him, Gon, and Zushi. He meant nen practice with him, Gon, Zushi, Illumi, Hisoka, Machi, and Pakunoda. He extended the invitation to all of the professional practitioners, even his own brother.

For the first time, Illumi was hesitant to train him. “I don’t trust my own methods,” the omega admitted. There were many things about his childhood to doubt, and now, one of those things was his own training.

Killua insisted that his brother wouldn’t hurt him, and even if the man didn’t trust his own methods, he could always ask Wing-san for advice on how to teach a kid. “All this ‘getting-along’ business is fun, but if Gon isn’t training to fight Hisoka anymore, we might as well just work together.” Illumi thought that perhaps without the needle, Killua had become brave enough to suggest such a thing.

Gon himself was understandably excited.

While he didn’t know how strong the two women were, he’d gotten the impression that they were quite powerful as well. Indeed, Machi had beaten him at arm-wrestling, which wouldn’t be so impressive outside of the fact that he was capable of lifting hundreds of pounds.

“We’d have 5 teachers!” the green-haired boy said, one morning. “A Specialist, an Enhancer, a Manipulator, and two Transmuters!” He paused, counting out the amount he’d just listed. “Yeah!” Gon affirmed, excitedly.

Wing smiled. “I suppose it is good exposure…” They would gain deeper insight into four out of the six nen categories, especially in regards to their own. Perhaps Zushi would even benefit from having a Manipulator on hand, but… “But Illumi, are you quite sure he’s ready to tr-”

“I’m sure,” Gon stated with certainty. “He’s different. Sometimes people change when they find a mate, and he’s changed.”

Wing noted the assuredness of his eyes. “I suppose I will have to see for myself,” he remarked.

They decided to start on the weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO YALL IM ALIVE. 
> 
> Sorry I haven't posted on time!!! I'm working at a booth in NY Comiccon this year, and my workplace has been demanding all of my time to prepare. I basically go to bed instead of writing. However, here you go!! Have more fluff and senseless crack!!! If you're wondering where the plot is going, keep wondering! I have many plans. :D
> 
> Also, there are many ways to interpret Hisoka's desires, but I ultimately chose this path, as it sort of mirrors the more angsty aspects of Illumi's upbringing. All this time, he just wanted to have a connection with people. His life is barren. That's prolly why he has so much time to spare, stalking 12 yr olds in the anime. Of course, Hisoka still retains some of his joy while fighting, but I'm not just here to punish Illumi, so he will feel pain as well.


	19. Bloodline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka and Silva have a conversation over coffee.

During the weekend, Machi sat down with Gon, explaining the subtle nature of her nen. 

“I know I spoke about this before, but as a Transmuter, my nen deals with the intricacies of the body.” She spread her fingers, showing rows of thread that manifested themselves across her hands. “Just like Hisoka's, my nen can take on several purposes, but my greatest ability…” She took a needle, cutting a wound open on her own arm. The boy followed her swift movements. “...Is this.” 

Machi slowed it down for visual purposes, sewing the wound completely shut. It was as though nothing had happened. 

Gon stared at her arm, thoroughly impressed. She’d told him about it once, but seeing it with his own eyes… “There really isn't a mark or anything! I thought it would leave a scar.”

She shook her head. “It would, if I was just stitching the wound together. But I'm not.” The boy gave her a befuddled look. Machi cleared her throat, and explained, “My nen can emulate and take on the properties of skin, muscles, even bone… because of this, I can completely reconnect severed body parts.” 

_ Am I starting to sound like Hisoka? _ Machi wondered briefly. She shrugged the worry off. Unlike Hisoka, she hardly ever got to brag about her own nen. 

The boy gaped at her. “That's amazing!” He blurted, clapping his hands in excitement. “I didn't know your nen could do that! Is it hard?”

Machi chuckled. “It is  _ so _ fucking hard. Or at least, it was when I started learning.” Now, she could do it fairly easily. “Because my nen took on such intricate properties, where I had to instantly be mindful of hundreds of cells… My daily attitude reflected it. I became mindful of everything and everyone around me.” 

Gon smiled. “That's easy for you, isn't it? You're super thoughtful.” 

Machi glanced at the boy. They hadn’t known each other for very long, but she had become quite fond of his earnestness. “Yeah, yeah,” the woman retorted, ruffling his hair. He grinned, sticking her tongue out at her.

The omega continued on, “I didn't mean it like that. I meant my sensitivity to my surroundings. If I'm being pursued, I can tell how many people are pursuing me, their nen quality, the level of their skill, whether they're in hatsu, zetsu, gyo, and so on. I can even differentiate the auras from one person to the next… it's that kind of mindfulness.” 

It was fairly gratifying to say this to a twelve year old, the woman found. 

The Phantom Troupe was full of highly skilled individuals, to the point where her unique aspects, while powerful, weren't entirely mind blowing. Machi, though exceptional to the rest of the human race, was fairly standard within her own group. Thus, she didn't see that her own skills were worth bragging about... 

Except Gon clearly did.

“For instance,” Machi continued, now smiling at the boy’s expression, “Hisoka and Illumi are currently walking towards this apartment.” Gon got up, looking out the window. They were situated in Wing's living room, waiting for the man to finish fixing up tea with his youngest student. “I don’t see them,” he said, after glancing around. 

“I don’t either,” she clarified, to his confusion. “But I don’t have to.” Gon nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“You know how I know?” She asked. He shook his head. “Because I can sense their auras.”

He closed his eyes, vainly attempting to search for the same sensations she was feeling. 

A moment of silence passed. Gon frowned. “I can't tell at all,” he admitted. 

Machi smiled patiently. “It's alright, you'll get there. Now… How do I know it's Hisoka and Illumi, and not Killua and Pakunoda?” 

The other two had gone out together to pick up breakfast, though more likely than not, Pakunoda was going to indulge Killua in his insatiable desire for snacks. She had taken up an overly-loving-auntie type of position in the white-haired boy’s life, which he greatly enjoyed.

Gon had stayed behind just so Machi wouldn’t feel lonely in a house full of strangers. 

Thus, they had contented themselves to talking until the others arrived. “How do you know,” Gon finally asked, seeing that she would keep him in suspense. He stared expectantly for her explanation. 

“Because,” she began. “They both have auras that are roughly the same level… and their auras are connected.” She grinned, here. “They're probably holding hands.”

The boy snickered. 

“Ah,” Machi's gaze followed from one end of the room to the other. It was as though she could see them through the walls. “They're stopping. They're looking around, probably trying to figure out if this is the address…” A few moments passed, as Gon tensely watched Machi’s eyes wander. 

They heard the door open, from two floors down. Zushi greeted someone. 

The woman looked over at the green-haired boy, a playful glint in her eyes. “Feel like placing bets? The first one up the stairs will be Illumi. His nen is quieter, most likely because of his training.”

Gon stared intently at the open hallway. 

A few seconds passed, and Illumi wandered by, stopping at their door. “Ah, good morning,” he greeted, with a wave. Hisoka followed not shortly after. 

The boy stared back at Machi. At this rate, his jaw was going to drop to the floor permanently. 

“Machi!” He exclaimed, like she’d just performed a miracle. The woman smiled, quite pleased with herself. “I told you,” she stated, matter-of-factly. Illumi and Hisoka blinked, watching the scene unfold. 

“She sensed you guys before you were even at the door!” The boy elaborated, though not quite knowing how to explain it. Machi smirked. “It’s not that big of a deal, Gon.  _ Though...  _ I would say it’s a bit impressive to sense Illumi’s aura versus Hisoka’s.” 

The assassin nodded in agreement. His nen was trained to the point in which one would not be able to distinctly tell what type of nen user he was, and if he focused, he could even pass off as someone who didn’t use nen at all. Of course, Hisoka didn’t bother with such subtleties. 

Gon had shining eyes. “You’ll teach me, right?” 

The woman couldn’t say no. 

* * *

 

After the weekend, Gon and Killua developed a clear understanding to the intricacies of nen, and how their personalities and ideologies impacted it. From Machi’s overt awareness of subtlety, to Hisoka’s carefree and kiddish nature, they’d gotten that much closer to seeing what made a nen ability one’s own. 

Gon didn’t say anything to anyone, but he decided, quietly, that he wanted a nen ability as strong as his convictions. And first, he wanted convictions that were equally as strong as his desires. 

He would speak, then, to Machi, about their shared promises. The promises had once been broken, and with it, a degree of trust- but Gon had grown since then. Killua, having found a new facet of family and personal strength, seemed to share similar wishes. 

* * *

 

It became Wednesday. 

Hisoka had been given quiet advice from Machi. She was under the impression that he was merely thinking about settling down, and potentially visiting the Zoldyck estate. The woman had no idea that he was in fact meeting his possible father-in-law that very week. 

Machi’d said that for omegas, “Family is everything.” She’d stressed it over and over, after seeing how careless he’d been with Illumi’s family the first time. 

“Whatever you think constitutes as careful, double it.” 

“Illumi’s family plays a huge role in his life- remember that the alpha in his group dynamic probably sees you as inconsequential, unless you show yourself to be worthy of his omega.” 

“But don’t be offended by this, and god, Hisoka,  _ don’t  _ be an instigator. Literally all you have to do is prove that you can take care of Illumi, and that would solve most of your problems.” A hefty promise. He had a lot of problems.

“When it comes time for you to meet the family, they will be concerned about your mating,” Oh, he knew that already, “And your capacity to provide. If you can’t do either, well, you’d be tossed aside in most traditional households.” 

So the jester was left with a myriad of advising tidbits, not quite sure how to proceed. He didn’t know what Silva wanted, nor what the man cared about. Hisoka reckoned that money wasn’t that hard to come across, and even if it was, Illumi’s family already owned a mountain. There was really nothing material that the jester could promise him, nothing that Illumi didn’t have already. Well, aside from a nice little bite mark and a child. 

And a wedding, perhaps.

He briefly wondered what kind of ring Illumi would like. It would be gold, certainly. He hardly ever saw the man wear silver. So a gold ring, and it had to be expensive because Illumi didn’t come from a cheap upbringing, not like him. And the wedding itself, well, certainly the flower of choice would be peonies. 

And what to wear? Pakunoda could help with that. That was precisely her specialty. Perhaps he could invite the whole troupe, while he was at it. Maybe even the Hunter Association. Gon’s friends and family, for shits and giggles. No, Illumi wouldn’t like that many people at such a personal event. Only close friends and family. 

Hisoka amused himself with this train of thought for a while, until he saw- no, he  _ sensed  _ it. 

It was contained, and thrumming so quietly that most nen practitioners would think nothing. 

He felt the unbridled violence tucked neatly under repressed nen. It was shockingly akin to his own lover’s, but Illumi didn’t have it like this. At least, not anymore. 

Hisoka turned, glancing down the street, past dozens of unremarkable pedestrians, feeling the only pair of eyes that were watching him so intently. His skin buzzed with the sensation. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. 

The man had eyes and hair entirely unlike Illumi. His stature and expression was nothing like Killua’s. In truth, there was no certain indicator that this was their father. Yet Hisoka knew, even without seeing a picture or hearing a description, that he was looking at Silva Zoldyck, and Silva was looking at him. 

The jester would have found this feeling entirely exciting, a few months ago. 

Now, he felt dread. 

Silva began to walk towards him. The man was most certainly an assassin. His steps made no noise and his nen made no indications of his intent- in fact, Hisoka could only sense the malice because he recognized it in Silva’s children. It became clear that their most hostile traits were inherited from him. 

_ But why is he directing it towards me?  _ The alpha wondered. 

It was rather disappointing, to feel as though he’d failed before he’d even gotten to try. Though in all honesty, the jester couldn’t be sure. Perhaps this was simply the nature of Silva’s nen. 

“Good morning,” the man said, having reached the jester. Hisoka greeted him in return. “Let’s go to a cafe nearby,” he continued, expression stern. Not knowing how else to proceed, the younger alpha merely nodded in response. 

Silva began to walk. 

“You’ve been to this city often?” Hisoka asked, tentatively. The man seemed entirely assured, with the air of a local rather than a tourist.

“Yes,” Silva replied, with little other explanation. The jester hummed in response. 

* * *

 

“How many children do you plan to have with my son?” Silva asked abruptly. They were sitting in a relatively empty cafe, letting the soft instrumental music drown out most of their quiet conversation. 

Hisoka hadn’t thought about that question, in all earnestness. He’d just considered marriage, but not much after it. “One child is enough,” he said, finding it to be an honest response. He couldn’t imagine raising four or five, and he was sure Illumi wouldn’t want to either.

Silva hummed, considering it. 

The older man looked to the side, and the alpha felt his own apprehension rise. Was one child not a suitable answer?

“One is fair,” Silva commented. “Male omegas aren’t physically suitable to have more than one or two.” 

Hisoka hadn’t known that, but he supposed he did now. 

“And who will raise them?” 

The jester blinked at the question. Was it a serious one? He couldn’t tell, with Silva’s stoic expression. Well, he wasn’t about to take notes from Gon’s dad… “We both will, of course. It would be our child, after all.” While he hadn’t given much thought to the matter, Hisoka found that the idea contented him. 

“And who will teach them to fight?” 

The jester was taken off guard, again. Of course. Silva was an assassin from a proud bloodline. Raising a child meant teaching them how to fight. Or rather, kill. 

Professional criminal heritage not-withstanding, Hisoka found that he would have taught his own child to fight regardless. He couldn’t imagine having a kid that was incapable of standing their own ground, especially considering how many enemies he’d made. Besides, considering both parents would be avid nen practitioners, it wouldn’t do to keep their child in the dark. 

“We both can do that, as well.” 

“Hmm,” Silva responded, nonchalantly.

Hisoka pondered, briefly, as to why the man was only asking about children when he clearly hadn’t even mated. He had little time to think on the matter, as Silva continued: “Would this child be a suitable Zoldyck, under your care and training?” 

The jester wanted to ask what constituted as a suitable Zoldyck. Silva sensed it. 

So he elaborated. “Our mansion is blocked off by gates that weigh several tons. Our inner household does not have furniture you may be accustomed to,” he said, motioning to the cup of cappuccino. Silva picked it up delicately, remarking, “This cup is like a shard of air. The chair, the table, the door, feel as though they are made of foam and cardboard. Everything in our household is ten times heavier, to the point that readjusting to the outside world is a jarring experience.” 

Hisoka blinked, remembering all the times Illumi had literally broken his apartment. He’d thought that the omega was just careless in his anger, but perhaps this was one of the reasons why. 

“That is not to speak of the food, of the training grounds, of our nen standards. So I ask you, would this child live up to our standards?” 

The jester smiled.  _ So that’s why he is here. _

“Yes,” he answered, assuredly. If the matter was as simple as  _ ‘will your mating bring us strong grandchildren?’ _ then he was sure to deliver. Silva narrowed his eyes. 

“You seem certain. Perhaps under Illumi, the child would be on par.” Hisoka didn’t miss the slight offense to his character. However, he was hard pressed to remain well tempered. Besides, whether or not his and Illumi’s child lived up to a certain standard would not be up to Silva anyway, so there was no point getting riled over the man’s insinuations. 

Now knowing the man’s intentions, Hisoka settled with lying through his teeth. 

“You are concerned whether the child would be a suitable assassin, yes?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “While I am not an assassin, I have killed a lot of people. I’ll train the kid just fine.” 

The jester didn’t plan to train the kid at all. Whether or not his child was going into the Zoldyck business was not going to be up to any of them. Hisoka only cared that the kid would be strong, he had no claims on their profession. 

Silva regarded him with a reserved stare. 

“Is that so,” he replied.

Hisoka settled into his chair, staring back. He should have realized what Silva wanted out of all of this. Considering he’d seen the reflections of the man’s wishes in his own lover, he should have seen it. Hisoka admittedly could care less for the Zoldyck legacy, but if all he needed to do to appease his omega’s family was bank on a few (somewhat) empty promises, that would be fine. 

He reminded himself that this was for Illumi’s happiness.

“And you think  _ you  _ are strong enough to live up to our standards?”

Hisoka didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he answered back. 

Silva folded his arms. “Then I would like to test your strength.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M STILL HERE GUYS. SORRY I DIDN'T UPDATE FOR SO LONG, OCTOBER SLAUGHTERED ME. But I'm back!!! And finally picking up the pace!!!!


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